A  PARODY  OUTLINE 
OF  HISTORY 


DONALD  OGDEN  STEWART 


lU^ 


T^eabtr^  ate  hxvxltb  >n  bottaU  '^^xlocixayheh  ^^ol^nn,^^ 

This  Book 


YE    HOLLY     INN 


I 


^ijVUf. 


1 


.c 


i 

A 


i 


>1 


^ 


4 


i 
X 


t 


i 


r^     i 


2 


1 

r 

1 


^ 


i 


^.■''^.'k.iV!Miia(\/,: 


A  Parody  OUTLINE 
OF  HISTORY 

DONALD  OGDEN  STEWART 


THE    HOME    LIFE    OF    THE    PILGRIMS 


Mrs.  Brewster — Priscilla,  dear,  please  give  Auntie 
Brewster  the  gin.  I — er — promised  to  take  some  to  the 
church  social  tonight.  .  .  .  And  please,  dear,  don't  drink 
straight  vermouth  while  I'm  gone — remember  what 
happened  last  time ! 


s«.^^&^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^s^ 


^    Parody    Outline 
OF    HISTORY    by 

DONALD  OGDEN  STEWART 


Wherein  May  Be  Found 
A  Curiously  Irreverent  Treatment  of 

AMERICAN  HISTORICAL  EVENTS 

Imagining  Them  As  They  Would  Be  Narrated 

By  America's  Most  Characteristic 

Contemporary  Authors 


< 


Together  With  Divers  Delightful  Droll 
Drawings  Penciled  By  HERB  ROTH 

The  Whole  Forming  An  Amusing  and 

Satirical  Picture  of  AMERICAN  LETTERS 

Of  Today 


Jib 


J(b 
J(b 


^  Published  in  these  United  States  by 

0^  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 

m  New  York  MCMXXI 


Copyright,  1 92 1, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PM 


To 

GILBERT  HOLLAND  STEWART.  Jr. 


Preface 


Mr.  H.  G.  Wells,  in  his  ''Outline  of  His- 
tory," was  of  necessity  forced  to  omit  the 
narration  of  many  of  the  chief  events  in  the 
history  of  these  United  States.  Such  omis- 
sions I  have  in  this  brief  volume  endeavored 
to  supply.  And  as  American  history  can  pos- 
sibly best  be  written  by  Americans  and  as  we 
have  among  us  no  H.  G.  Wells,  I  have 
imagined  an  American  history  as  written 
conjointly  by  a  group  of  our  most  character- 
istic literary  figures. 

Apologies  are  due  the  various  authors 
whose  style  and,  more  particularly,  whose 
Weltanschauung  I  have  here  attempted  to  re- 
produce; thanks  are  due  The  Bookman  for 
permission  to  reprint  such  of  these  chapters 
as  appeared  in  that  publication.  I  give  both 
freely. 

D.  O.  S. 


Contents 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     INTRODUCTION:     A   Critical  Survey   of 

American   History 17 

In  the  Manner  of  William  Lyon  Phelps 

II     CRISTOFER   COLOMBO:     A  Comedy  of 

Discovery .       25 

In  the  Manner  of  James  Branch  Cabell 

III  MAIN    STREET:     Plymouth,    Mass.     .     .       57 

In  the  Manner  of  Sinclair  Lewis 

IV  THE   COURTSHIP    OF    MILES    STAN- 

DISH   87 

In  the  Manner  of  F.  Scott  Fitzgerald 

V    THE  SPIRIT  OF  '75:    Letters  of  a  Minute 

Man 107 

In  the  Maimer  of  Ring  Lardner 

VI    THE  WHISKY  REBELLION     ....     133 

In  the  Bedtime  Story  Manner  of  Thorn- 
ton W.  Burgess 

VII     HOW     LOVE     CAME    TO     GENERAL 

GRANT 151 

In  the  Manner  of  Harold  Bell  Wright 

[xi] 


Contents 

CHAPTER                                                                                 P^GE 
VIII    CUSTER'S  LAST  STAND i8i 

In  the  Manner  of  Edith  Wharton 

IX    FOR  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE  WORLD : 

A  Drama  of  the  Great  War     ....      193 

Act  I — In  the  Manner  of  Mary  Raymond 
Shipman  Andrews 

Act  2 — In  the  Manner  of  Eugene  O'Neill 


[xii] 


Illustrations 


The   Home  Life  of  the   Pilgrims      ....  Frontispiece 

PAGE 

Colombo  Does  the  Marvelous  Egg  Trick     ....  35 

Colombo  Teaches  Geography  to  the  Queen     ...  41 

The  Voyage  to  the  Land  of  Colombo's  Imagining     .  45 

The  Red-Haired  Stranger  Appears 51 

Priscilla  Kennicott's  Foot  Slips 59 

The  Meeting  of  the  Jolly  Seventeen 63 

The  Smart  Set  Medicine  Show 69 

A  Quiet  Evening  in  Plymouth lOi 

Ed  and  the  Wife  Give  Boston  the  Double — O  .      .      .  109 

The  Boston  Tea  Party 113 

Ed  Joins  the  Minute  Men 119 

The  Midnight  Ride  of  Paul  Revear 125 

Little  Elmer's  Father's  D.T.'s  Delight  the  Children  .  135 

Teaching  the  Young  Idea  How  to  Shoot     ....  141 

How  the  Dear  Children  Love  Their  Liquor!   .      .      .  145 

Miss  Ella  Flowers  Arrives  at  the  Party     .      .      .      .  155 

Ella  is  Rescued  by  the  General 167 

The  General  Refuses  a  Drink 171 

The  World  Will  Never  Forget 209 

For  the  Freedom  of  the  World 217 

[xiii] 


Chapter  One 

Introduction:  a  Critical  Survey 
of  American  History. 

In  the  Manner  of  IVilliam  Lyon  Phelps 


CHAPTER  ONE 

INTRODUCTION 

A  Critical  Survey  of  American  History 

In  the  Manner  of  fVilliam  Lyon  Phelps 

On  a  memorable  evening  in  the  year  1904 
I  witnessed  the  opening  performance  of 
Maude  Adams  in  "Peter  Pan".  Nothing  in 
the  world  can  describe  the  tremendous  en- 
thusiasm of  that  night!  I  shall  never  forget 
the  moment  when  Peter  came  to  the  front  of 
the  stage  and  asked  the  audience  if  we  be- 
lieved in  fairies.  I  am  happy  to  say  that  I 
was  actually  the  first  to  respond.  Leaping  at 
once  out  of  my  seat,  I  shouted  "Yes — Yes!" 
To  my  intense  pleasure  the  whole  house  al- 
most instantly  followed  my  example,  with  the 
exception  of  one  man.  This  man  was  sitting 
directly  in  front  of  me.  His  lack  of  enthusi- 
asm was  to  me  incredible.    I  pounded  him  on 

[17] 


A  Parody  Outline  Of  History 

the  back  and  shouted,  ''Great  God,  man,  are 
you  alive!  Wake  up!  Hurrah  for  the  fairies! 
Hurrah!"  Finally  he  uttered  a  rather  feeble 
"Hurrah!"  Childe  Roland  to  the  dark  tower 
came. 

That  was  my  first  meeting  with  that  ad- 
mirable statesman  Woodrow  Wilson,  and  I 
am  happy  to  state  that  from  that  night  we 
became  firm  friends.  When  Mr.  Wilson  was 
inaugurated  in  1913  I  called  on  him  at  the 
White  House,  taking  with  me  some  members 
of  my  Yale  drama  class.  Each  one  of  us  had 
an  edition  of  the  president's  admirable  "His- 
tory of  the  American  People",  and  I  am  glad 
to  say  that  he  was  kind  enough  to  autograph 
each  of  the  ten  volumes  for  all  of  us. 

Early  in  Mr.  Wilson's  second  term  as  presi- 
dent, just  before  the  break  with  Germany,  I 
was  sitting  in  the  quiet  of  my  library  reread- 
ing Browning's  "Cristina".  When  I  came  to 
the  third  stanza  I  leaped  to  my  feet — the  thing 
seemed  incredible,  but  here  before  my  eyes 
was  actually  Browning's  prophetic  message  to 
America  in  regard  to  the  submarine  sinkings. 

[18] 


Introduction 

"Oh,  we're  sunk  enough  here,  God  knows! 
But  not  so  sunk  that  moments — etc."  It  is  an 
extraordinary  evidence  of  the  man's  genius 
that  in  1840  he  should  have  perhaps  foreseen 
prophetically  the  happenings  of  seventy-six 
years  later!  Not  only  did  Browning  seem  to 
know  what  was  bound  to  happen,  but  he  told 
us  the  remedy.  I  sat  right  down  and  wrote 
to  my  good  friend  the  president,  enclosing  a 
marked  copy  of  the  poem.  On  the  sixth  of 
April,  1917,  war  was  declared. 

May  7,  191 2,  was  the  one  hundredth  anni- 
versary of  the  birth  of  Robert  Browning.  On 
that  memorable  date  I  was  traveling  to  Ohio 
at  the  request  of  my  dear  friend  Miss  Jones 
to  deliver  an  address  at  the  Columbus  School 
for  Girls.  Curiously  enough  the  name  of  my 
Pullman  car  was  Pauline.  Not  only  did  that 
strike  me  as  remarkable,  but  I  occupied  upper 
berth  number  9  in  car  11,  two  numbers  which, 
added  together,  produced  the  exact  age  at 
which  Browning  published  the  poem  of  that 
name.  At  once  I  recited  the  opening  lines, 
"Pauline,  mine  own,  bend  o'er  me — thy  soft 

[•9] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

breast  shall  pant  to  mine — bend  o'er  me,"  to 
the  porter. 

I  like  to  believe  that  the  spirit  of  Browning 
arranged  that  entire  journey,  for  the  other  oc- 
cupant of  this  well-omened  berth  was  that 
admirable  statesman  Warren  G.  Harding. 
When  I  sat  down  I  noticed  that  he  was  read- 
ing Henry  Sydnor  Harrison's  "Queed",  a 
book  which  was  justly  popular  at  that  time. 
I  at  once  showed  Mr.  Harding  an  article  I 
had  written  in  which  I  stated  that  not  only 
was  "Queed"  a  real  novel,  with  a  real  plot, 
and  real  characters,  but  that  I  believed  the 
readers  were  stimulated  by  the  spiritual  ad- 
vance of  the  hero.  The  future  president 
agreed  with  me  and  said  he  thought  that  lit- 
erature was  a  great  thing.  Encouraged  by 
this  I  confessed  that  I  was  on  my  way  to  de- 
liver a  lecture  on  modern  poetry.  Mr.  Hard- 
ing replied  that  he  thought  poetry  was  a  great 
thing.  "Splendid!"  I  cried,  and  taking  a  copy 
of  Browning  from  my  bag  I  read  him  several 
selections.  Mr.  Harding  said  that  of  the 
American  poets  he  liked  James  Whitcomb 

[20] 


Introduction 

Riley  best.  Personally,  while  I  have  for  Mr. 
Riley  only  wonder  and  praise,  I  think  that  the 
English  poet  strikes  a  more  inspiring,  more 
eternal  note. 

I  then  read  to  Mr.  Harding  Browning's 
"Evelyn  Hope".  He  said  that  he  knew  a 
Mrs.  Walter  Hope  in  Marion,  but  that  he 
was  not  sure  her  first  name  was  Evelyn.  As  I 
knew  that  Mr.  Harding  liked  a  good  pun,  I 
remarked  facetiously  that  "hope  springs  eter- 
nal", meaning  that  probably  there  were  in 
existence  several  families  of  that  name. 

I  am  happy  to  state  that  with  that  meeting 
began  a  friendship  which  has  lasted  for  many 
years.  When  Mr.  Harding  was  nominated 
for  the  presidency,  I  wrote  at  once,  enclosing 
a  copy  of  "The  Advance  of  the  English 
Novel"  which  I  had  published  in  191 6.  On 
the  title-page  I  wrote,  "To  the  Hero  of  a 
Much  More  Spectacular  Advance",  meaning 
that  the  progress  made  by  the  English  novel 
was  as  nothing  compared  to  Mr.  Harding's 
rapid  and  well-deserved  rise.  In  reply  I  re- 
ceived the  following: 

[21] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

6  July,  1920. 
My  Dear  Professor  Phelps: 

Many  thanks  to  you  for  your  congratulations  and  your 
kindness  in  sending  me  your  brilliant,  searching  essays 
which  I  hope  to  be  able  to  read  in  the  near  future. 

Warren  G.  Harding. 

Just  as  I  am  always  glad  that  I  am  an 
American,  so  I  think  we  should  all  believe 
whole-heartedly  in  the  glorious  future  which 
lies  ahead  of  us.  We  should  all  pay  high 
tribute  to  the  ideals  and  sincerity  of  those 
great  leaders  Woodrow  Wilson  and  Warren 
Harding.  What  a  pity  that  some  people  be- 
lieve that  there  is  any  antagonism  or  essential 
difference  in  the  aims  of  those  two  worthy 
men.  Both  are  absolutely  sincere — both  try 
to  make  the  world  a  better,  more  happy  place. 
And  to  the  critic  of  history — as  to  the  critic 
of  art  and  literature — those  are  the  essential 
things.  Viewing  the  past  and  glimpsing  the 
future  of  American  history  I  cannot  help 
feeling  that  Browning  had  us  perhaps  uncon- 
sciously in  mind  when  he  wrote : 

God's  in  his  heaven: 
All's  right  with  the  world! 

[22] 


Chapter  Two 

CrISTOFER  COLOMBO:  A  Comedy 
of  Discovery. 

In  the  Manner  of  James  Branch  Cabell 


CHAPTER  TWO 

Cristofer  Colombo:  a  Comedy  of 
Discovery 

In  the  Manner  of  James  Branch  Cabell 

In  fourteen  hundred  ninety  two 
In  the  city  of  Genoa. 

— Old  Song. 

They  of  Genoa  tell  with  a  shrug  how  in  the 
old  days  Cristofer  Colombo  whom  men  called 
the  Dreamer  left  Dame  Colombo  to  go  in 
search  of  the  land  of  his  imagining. 

And  the  tale  tells  how,  on  a  twilight  Thurs- 
day, Colombo  walked  alone  on  the  edge  of  a 
doubtful  wood,  and  viewed  many  things  not 
salutary  to  notice.  And  there  came  to  him 
one  who  was  as  perversely  tall  as  a  certain 
unmentionable  object  and  bearded  in  a  man- 
ner it  is  not  convenient  to  describe. 

But  Colombo  set  about  that  which  the 
stranger  said  was  necessary  and  when  he  had 

[25] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

finished  he  drank  the  contents  of  the  curious 
skull  as  had  been  foretold  on  a  certain  All- 
Saints  day.  Then  it  was  that  the  stranger 
spoke. 

"Whom  are  you",  said  he,  "to  be  thus  wan- 
dering in  the  very  unspeakable  forest  of  the 
very  unnamable  sorcerer  Thyrston?" 

Said  Colombo,  "I  have  heard  of  this  Thyrs- 
ton. And  while  I  do  not  criticize,  yet  I  cannot 
entirely  agree  with  your  improper  use  of  the 
pronoun  whom,  and  oh  my  dear  sir",  said 
Colombo,  "those  two  verys  would  surely — oh, 
most  surely — be  mentioned  in  'The  Conning 
Tower'." 

"Eh  I"  said  Thyrston,  frowning. 

"I  allude",  said  Colombo,  "to  the  scrib- 
bling of  a  certain  Adams  with  whom  you  are 
doubtless  familiar,  and  of  course,  my  dear 
Thyrston",  said  Colombo,  "I  spoke  only  jest- 
ingly, for  I  am  Cristof er  Colombo  whom  men 
call  the  Dreamer,  and  I  go  in  search  of  the 
land  of  my  imagining  and  it  is  truly  a  pleasure 
to  meet  the  greatest  sorcerer  since  Ckellyr, 

[2^ 


Cristofer  Colombo 

and  how",  said  Colombo,  *'is  dear  Mrs.  Thyrs- 
ton?" 

Then  Thyrston  showed  Colombo  what  was 
written  on  the  insecure  parchment.  It  fright- 
ened Colombo  a  little,  but  he  assented.  And 
when  the  sorcerer  had  borrowed  a  silk  hat  and 
a  gold  watch  he  caused  the  skies  to  darken 
and  Colombo  saw  that  which  men  refuse  to 
believe. 

"But,  oh,  now  really  sir",  said  Colombo, 
"that  is  indeed  extremely  clever  and  I  do  wish 
that  the  children  were  here  to  see  it  and  would 
you  mind,  my  dear  Thyrston",  said  Colombo, 
"doing  that  egg  trick  again?" 

Then  Thyrston  showed  Colombo  that  he 
had  nothing  up  either  sleeve  and  after  an  in- 
terval he  consented  to  teach  Colombo  the 
secret  of  his  conjuring. 

"Why  now  to  be  sure",  said  Colombo,  after 
he  had  thoroughly  mastered  the  trick,  "that  is 
indeed  quite  simple  and  I  am  sorry  I  broke 
those  four  eggs  by  mistake  in  j^our  silk  hat, 
and  while  I  do  not  wish  to  appear  oversensi- 
tive, do  you  not  think,  my  dear  Thyrston", 

[27] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

said  Colombo,  ''that  the  trick  would  go  just  as 
well  without  those  abominable  jokes  about 
married  life?" 

"My  dear  sir",  said  Thyrston,  "those  jokes 
have  been  used  by  every  conjurer  since  Mer- 
lin, and  while  perhaps  without  them  your 
trick  would  work,  yet  I  have  never  heard  of 
it  being  done  and  I  have  found",  said  Thyrs- 
ton, "that  in  sorcery  the  best  results  are  ob- 
tained by  doing  the  customary  thing." 

"Which  only  goes  to  show",  said  Colombo, 
"that  sorcery  is  somewhat  akin  to  business, 
and  now  that  I  think  of  it",  said  Colombo,  "I 
believe  that  the  term  wizard  of  industry  is 
perhaps  not  entirely  a  misnomer." 

Thus  it  was  that  Colombo  took  leave  of 
Thyrston,  and  the  tale  tells  how  on  Walbur- 
ga's  Eve  he  came  to  the  court  of  King  Ferdi- 
nand and  Queen  Isabel.  And  as  he  entered 
one  met  him  who  was  not  unpleasing  to  the 
eye,  and  she  was  weeping.  And,  as  it  was 
somewhat  dark,  Colombo  decided  to  comfort 
her. 

"Now,  do  you  tell  me,  my  dear",  said  Co- 

[28] 


Cristofer  Colombo 

lombo,  after  an  interval,  "why  it  is  you  weep, 
for  I  am  Colombo  whom  men  call  the  Dream- 
er, and  I  go  in  search  of  the  land  of  my  imag- 
ining, and  I  think",  said  Colombo,  "that  you 
have  most  remarkably  lovely  eyes." 

"Oh  messire",  said  the  lady,  "I  weep  be- 
cause it  is  this  evening  that  I  am  to  entertain 
the  ladies  of  our  Progress  Literary  Club,  and 
Donna  Margarita  whom  men  call  the  Spanish 
Omelet,  but  who  really,  messire,  has  a  lovely 
voice,  was  going  to  sing  'The  Rosary'  and 
now  she  has  a  cold  and  cannot  sing,  and  King 
Ferdinand  is  coming,  and  oh,  messire,  what", 
said  the  lady,  "shall  I  do?" 

"Why  now,  truly",  said  Colombo,  "in  Genoa 
it  was  the  judgment  of  all  the  really  musically 
intelligent  ladies,  except  perhaps  my  wife, 
that  I  sang  not  an  unpleasing  baritone,  and 
while  I  do  not  know  the  song  to  which  you 
refer,  yet  I  have  devoted  most  of  my  life  to 
the  composition  of  a  poem  concerning  the 
land  of  my  imagining  which  might  well  be 
sung  and  besides  that",  said  Colombo,  "I  can 
do  a  most  remarkable  egg  trick." 

[29] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

So  it  was  that  Colombo  became  for  a  short 
time  not  undeservedly  the  life  of  the  Progress 
Literary  Club  party.  And  the  tale  tells  how, 
after  a  paper  by  Donna  Violet  Balboa  on 
^'Spanish  Architecture — Then  and  Now", 
Colombo  sang  to  them  the  song  of  the  land  of 
Colombo's  imagining.  And  poignantly  beau- 
tiful was  the  song,  for  in  it  was  the  beauty  of 
a  poet's  dream,  and  the  eternal  loveliness  of 
that  vision  which  men  have  glimpsed  in  all 
ages  if  ever  so  faintly.  And  when  he  had 
finished,  the  eyes  of  Colombo  were  wet  with 
tears,  for  into  this  poem  had  he  woven  the 
dreams  of  his  disillusionment.  And  some- 
what ironical  to  Colombo  was  the  applause 
of  those  fine  ladies  who  did  not  at  all  under- 
stand. 

"Now  that  is  a  pretty  song",  said  King 
Ferdinand,  "and  do  you  tell  us,  Colombo,  how 
one  may  get  to  this  land,  so  that  I  may  extend 
the  borders  of  my  most  Catholic  Kingdom  and 
spread  the  teachings  of  the  true  faith,  for  to 
bring  the  world  under  the  blessed  influence  of 
my  religion  is  my  only  purpose,  and  really 

[30] 


Cristofer  Colombo 

now",  said  King  Ferdinand,  "is  there  as  much 
gold  there  as  you  describe?" 

"Ah,  King  Ferdinand",  replied  Colombo, 
"there  is  more  gold  than  ever  I  can  tell, 
and  I  see  only  too  plainly  how  grievously  you 
suffer  to  think  that  perhaps  these  people  are 
living  in  ignorance  of  the  true  faith.  And  I 
could  ask  nothing  better  than  that  King  Fer- 
dinand give  me  ships  in  which  I  may  sail  to 
the  westward  and  come  at  last  to  the  land  of 
my  imagining.  This  I  would  do  in  order  that 
the  blessed  soldiers  of  King  Ferdinand  who 
will  follow  me  may  show  to  the  inhabitants 
of  my  discovered  land  the  grievous  errors  of 
their  ways  and  bring  them  at  last  to  a  realiza- 
tion of  the  true  faith  which  has  been  so  help- 
ful to  our  own  dear  Spain,  and",  added  Co- 
lombo, "our  gracious  sovereign  Ferdinand." 

And  droll  it  was  to  Colombo  to  think  what 
might  possibly  happen  were  King  Ferdinand 
to  take  his  dream  seriously  or  were  the  King 
perhaps  to  be  informed  as  to  the  true  meaning 
of  Colombo's  subtleties. 

"Well,  now",   said   King   Ferdinand,   "of 

[31] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

course,  to  fit  out  such  an  expedition  would 
require  great  expense,  my  dear  Colombo — 
great  expense.  And,  of  course,  you  know, 
Colombo,  that  when  investors  can  buy  Inqui- 
sition 4^'s  for  89  it  would  be  extremely  diffi- 
cult to  raise  the  money  for  such  a  speculative 
project — oh,  extremely  difficult.  And  then 
you  must  consider  the  present  depression — tell 
me  now,  Colombo",  said  King  Ferdinand, 
"how  long  do  you  think  this  depression  will 
last,  for  I  seek,  above  all  things,  a  return  to 
healthy  normalcy." 

'Well,  truly",  replied  Colombo,  "that 
would  be  most  difficult  to  say.  I  note  that  on 
Rodigruez  Babsyn's  last  chart — " 

"I  wish  this  Babsyn  and  his  charts  were  in 
hell",  said  King  Ferdinand,  "for  it  was  he 
who  advised  me  to  sell  Queen  Isabel's  silver 
holdings.  But  it  occurs  to  me,  Colombo,  that 
in  connection  with  this  land-of-gold  scheme 
of  yours,  you  mentioned  something  about  sail- 
ing to  the  westward.  Now  Colombo,  that 
would  be  a  distinct  disadvantage  when  it 
came   to   marketing  the   bonds,    for   as   you 

[32] 


Cristofer  Colombo 

must  already  know,  one  cannot  sail  to  the 
west  without  encountering  fierce  and  enor- 
mous monsters  who  swallow,  I  am  told,  whole 
ships  at  a  gulp." 

"Now  as  to  that",  said  Colombo,  somewhat 
embarrassed  at  the  turn  of  the  conversation, 
for  west  had  merely  happened  to  better  suit 
the  rhymes  of  his  poem,  "you  may  be  right, 
aiid  I  should  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  you  are 
wrong,  but  still  at  the  same  time",  said  Colom- 
bo, "is  there  any  gentleman  in  the  audience 
who  can  lend  me  an  egg  and  a  silk  hat?" 

And  when  an  unmentionable  egg  and  a 
doubtful  silk  hat  had  been  produced  in  a 
manner  which  it  is  not  convenient  to  mention, 
Colombo  rolled  up  both  his  sleeves  and  spoke 
the  magic  speech  as  he  had  learned  it  on  a 
certain  Thursday  from  the  sorcerer  Thyrston. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen",  said  Colombo,  "I 
have  here  a  common  household  egg  which  I 
shall  now  ask  the  ushers  to  pass  among  you 
so  you  may  see  for  yourself  that  there  are  no 
wires  or  strings  attached.  While  this  is  being 
done,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  wish  that  three 

[33] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

of  you  would  step  up  on  the  stage.  Any  three 
— don't  be  bashful  girls — I  won't  hurt  you. 
Won't  that  couple  over  there  kindly  oblige  me 
— that  married  couple — no,  folks,  I  guess  they 
aren't  married  either — they  look  too  happy." 

Very  painful  it  was  to  Colombo  to  hear 
these  horrible  jokes  coming  from  his  mouth, 
but  Thyrston  had  quoted  the  authority  of  all 
successful  sorcerers  and  not  for  anything 
would  Colombo  have  had  his  trick  a  failure. 

"Now  ladies  and  gentlemen",  said  Colom- 
bo, ''I  am  going  to  ask  this  lady  and  these 
two  gentlemen  if  they  will  be  so  good  as  to 
see  if  they  can  take  this  little  egg  and  make  it 
stand  on  end  without  any  support." 

And  very  droll  it  was  to  see  the  unsuccess- 
ful attempts  which  the  three  made.  Finally 
Colombo  said: 

"Now  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  want  you 
to  watch  me  closely.  I  put  the  silk  hat  on 
my  head — thus.  And  I  take  the  tgg  in  my 
right  hand — thus.  Now,  if  this  young  lady 
will  be  kind  enough  to  hold  my  left  hand — I 
hope  that  her  best  fellow  doesn't  mind  letting 

[34] 


C»LOMBO   DOES    THE    MARVELOUS    EGG    TRICK 

"And  when  an  unmentionable  egg  and  a  doubtful  silk 
hat  had  been  produced  in  a  manner  whicli  it  is  not 
convenient  to  mention,  Colombo  rolled  up  both  his 
sleeves  and  spoke  the  magic  speech  as  he  had  learned 
it  on  a  certain  Thursday  from  the  sorcerer  Thyrston. 
"  'Ladies  and  gentlemen,'  said  Colombo,  'I  have  here  a 
common   household    egg '  " 


Cristofer  Colombo 

such  a  pretty  girl  hold  my  hand — it's  lucky 
my  wife  can't  see  me,  though — a  friend  said 
to  me  the  other  day,  Who  was  that  lady  I 
seen  you  with?'  and  I  said,  'That  wasn't  no 
lady,  that  was  my  wife'.  Now  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen I  take  this  egg,  and  in  order  to  make 
it  stand  upright  I  tap  one  end  gently — thus — 
against  the  table  until  that  end  is  flattened — 
and  then,  presto — the  egg  stands  upright. 
Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  thank  you  one  and 
all  for  your  kind  attention." 

Thus  it  was  that  Colombo  impressed  King 
Ferdinand  and  his  court  with  his  profound 
knowledge  of  geography.  Next  the  tale  tells 
how  there  came  to  Colombo  on  Michaelmas 
Eve  one  sent  by  Queen  Isabel.  And  when 
Colombo  had  buckled  on  his  sword  Impavide 
he  followed  the  messenger  through  winding 
corridors  and  came  at  last  to  the  chamber  of 
the  Queen.  And  as  he  knelt  before  her  it 
seemed  to  Colombo  that  never  before  had  he 
seen  such  unforgettable  beauty  as  shone  in  the 
eyes  of  Queen  Isabel.    Yes,  truly,  this  was  the 

[37] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

loveliest  girl  that  Colombo  had  ever  imag- 
ined. 

"Now  do  you  rise",  said  she,  "and  you  and 
I  shall  have  a  nice  chat  alone  here  together, 
and  you  can  tell  me  all  about  geography  of 
which  I  am  oh,  frightfully  ignorant.  In 
truth",  said  she,  "I  have  tried  to  get  Ferdi- 
nand to  instruct  me,  but  I  fear",  said  Queen 
Isabel,  "that  Ferdinand  does  not  understand 


me." 


So  Colombo  instructed  Queen  Isabel  in  the 
fundamentals  of  geography.  And  after  a 
while  he  spoke. 

"Now  many  people",  said  Colombo,  "be- 
lieve that  the  earth  is  flat,  but",  said  Colombo, 
"such  is  not  at  all  the  case." 

And  after  an  interval  Colombo  said, 
"There,  my  dear,  do  you  not  see  how  ridicu- 
lous it  is  to  suppose  that  the  earth  is  anything 
but  round?" 

"Why  surely,  sire",  said  Queen  Isabel, 
"you  make  it  appear  very  round.  And  I 
wonder  that  I  had  not  thought  of  that  before. 
And  I  think",  said  Queen  Isabel,  "that  geog- 

[38] 


Cristofer  Colombo 

raphy  is  a  most  fascinating  subject  and  oh, 
messire  Colombo",  said  the  Queen,  "you  must 
come  and  instruct  me  often." 

Thus  it  was  that  Colombo  became  Royal 
Geographer.  And  the  tale  tells  how  after  a 
while  various  whisperings  came  to  King  Fer- 
dinand of  his  queen's  curious  enthusiasm 
for  study. 

"Now  about  this  geography",  said  King 
Ferdinand  one  evening  to  the  Queen,  "I  am, 
my  dear,  indeed  glad  to  see  you  take  an  inter- 
est in  such  an  important  study  and  I  have 
arranged",  said  the  King,  "to  have  your  tu- 
toring in  the  future  done  by  Father  Bernadino 
who  has  had  fifty-two  years'  experience  at  the 
University,  and  your  lessons",  said  the  King, 
"will  commence  tomorrow." 

Said  the  Queen,  "How  can  I  thank  you 
enough,  dear  Ferdinand,  for  your  untiring  in- 
terest in  my  welfare.  For  I  have  been  strug- 
gling along  in  my  study  of  geography  with  a 
horribly  dull  clod  whose  name",  said  the 
Queen,  "I  cannot  remember." 

[39] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

"Was  it,  by  any  chance,  Colombo?"  asked 
the  King. 

''Perhaps",  said  the  Queen.  "But  I  am  oh 
so  glad  to  be  rid  of  him."  And  indeed  so 
great  was  the  happiness  of  Queen  Isabel  that 
her  pillow  that  night  was  wet  with  tears. 

But  King  Ferdinand  was  an  unusually  effi- 
cient king,  and  he  spared  no  pains  in  his 
craving  for  normalcy.  So  it  was  that  the  next 
day  he  called  to  him  the  man  who  had  chanced 
to  be  Royal  Geographer  before  the  coup 
d'cBuf  of  Colombo. 

"Now  tell  me",  said  the  King,  "is  there  any 
chance  that  a  man  who  sails  to  the  westward 
will  ever  return?" 

"None,  your  Majesty",  said  the  ex-Royal 
Geographer.  "For  many  have  tried  and  hor- 
rible are  the  tales  which  they  tell  of  demons 
and  monsters  lying  in  wait  for  the  ships  of 
men.  And  I  should  say  definitely,  oh  King", 
said  he,  "that  whoever  sails  to  the  westward 
will  never  return." 

And  the  tale  tells  how  that  afternoon  Co- 
lombo stood  before  King  Ferdinand.     And 

[40] 


COLOMBO    TEACHES    GEOGRAPHY    TO    THE    QUEEN 

'"And  I  think,'  said  Queen  Isabel,  'that  geography 
is  a  most  fascinating  subject,  and  oh  mcssire  Colombo,^ 
said  the  Queen,  'you  must  come  and  instruct  me  often.' 

"Thus  it  was  that  Colombo  became  Royal  Geographer, 
And  the  tale  tells  how  after  a  while  various  whisperings 
came  to  King  Ferdinand  of  his  queen's  curious  enthu- 
siasm for  study." 


Cristojer  Colombo 

very  strange  to  Colombo  was  the  enthusiasm 
which  burned  in  the  King's  otherwise  some- 
what fishlike  eye. 

*'For  know  you,  Colombo",  the  King  was 
saying,  "that  God  has  spoken  to  me  and  com- 
manded me  to  save  from  the  fires  of  hell  the 
inhabitants  of  those  golden  lands  of  which 
you  sang.  And  to  you,  my  dear  Colombo,  is 
to  be  given  the  chance  which  you  so  ardently 
desire.  For  I  have  this  day  purchased  three 
ships  which  await  your  command,  and  within 
a  week  you  should  be  well  on  your  way  on 
this  glorious  mission  for  God  and  for  Spain, 
and",  said  the  King,  "I  might  add  that  the 
Queen,  too,  is  much  interested  in  this  voyage 
and  has  even  been  persuaded  to  dispose  of 
her  jewels  in  order  that  you  may  make  haste." 

"Such  instant  obedience  to  the  will  of 
God",  said  Colombo,  "and  such  fine  enthusi- 
asm to  further  His  kingdom  on  earth,  does 
your  Majesties  great  credit.  And  I  shall  in- 
deed congratulate  the  inhabitants  of  this  to- 
be-discovered  land  for  their  good  fortune  in 
obtaining  such  a  devout  King." 

[43] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

And  the  tale  tells  how  that  night  Colombo 
took  leave  of  Queen  Isabel.  "Now  do  not 
weep,  oh  Queen",  said  he,  "for  I  am  only  Co- 
lombo whom  men  call  the  Dreamer,  and  I 
go  in  search  of  the  land  of  my  imagining,  and 
perhaps",  said  Colombo,  "I  shall  return." 
But  they  tell  how  Queen  Isabel  refused  to  be 
comforted  for  many  and  many  a  day.  And 
unexplainably  curious  to  Father  Bcrnadino 
was  his  absolute  and  complete  failure  as  a 
royal  instructor  in  geography,  for  Father 
Bernadino  had  taught  for  fifty-two  years  at 
the  University. 

And  so  it  was  that  Colombo  sat  alone  in  the 
cabin  of  the  ship  which  carried  him  towards 
the  land  of  his  imagining.  And  strange  and 
somewhat  fearsome  it  was  to  the  sailors  to  see 
their  captain  sitting  thus  motionless  night 
after  night,  for  already  had  they  left  the  Ca- 
naries far  behind  and  some  there  were  who 
said  that  a  madman  commanded  their  ship, 
and  others  who  whispered  of  horrible  mon- 
sters in  these  western  seas. 

And  the  tale  tells  how  one  night  Colombo 

[44] 


THP  VOYAGE    TO   THE   LAND   OF   COLOMBO'S    IMAGINING 

"And  Strange  and  somewhat  fearsome  it  was  to  the 
sailors  .  .  .  for  already  had  they  left  the  Canaries  far 
behind,  and  some  there  were  who  said  that  a  madman 
commanded  the  ship,  and  others  who  whispered  of 
horrible  monsters  in  these  western  seas." 


Cristofer  Colombo 

observed  across  his  table  one  who  had  not 
been  sitting  there  a  moment  before  and  whose 
hair  was  strangely  red. 

"Well  now,  truly,  sir",  said  Colombo, 
"This  is  very  curious.  For  I  do  not  remem- 
ber seeing  you  among  the  crew  nor  were  you 
ever  at  the  court,  and  on  the  whole",  said  Co- 
lombo, "your  red  hair  and  your  sneering  grin 
interrupt  my  dreams,  and  dreams",  said  Co- 
lombo, "are  all  that  I  have  left." 

"For  know  you,  sir",  continued  he  to  the 
stranger  who  did  not  speak,  "that  on  this  earth 
man  has  been  able  to  endure  only  by  playing 
the  ape  to  his  dreams.  And  in  every  genera- 
tion", said  Colombo,  "there  have  been  those 
who  dreamed  of  beautiful  things  and  in  every 
age  there  have  been  those  who  caught  some 
glimpse  of  that  perfect  beauty  which  the 
Greeks  call  Helen,  and  to  have  seen  Helen", 
said  Colombo,  "is  to  have  been  touched  with 
divine  and  unbearable  madness." 

And  it  became  strangely  quiet  in  the  cabin 
as  Colombo  continued: 

"And  those  authors  who  wrote  perfectly  of 

[47] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

beautiful  dreams",  said  he,  "will,  perchance, 
endure,  and  those  who  saw  only  men  as  they 
are,  will  perish — for  so  has  it  been  in  the  past 
and  so  will  it  be  in  the  future.  All  of  which", 
said  Colombo,  "is  a  rather  tiresome  and  pe- 
dantic excuse  for  the  fact  that  I  am  about  to 
read  you  my  own  poem." 

And  Colombo  read  to  the  stranger  the 
dream  of  the  land  of  Colombo's  imagining, 
and  when  he  had  finished  the  stranger 
smiled  and  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"Come,  now,"  said  Colombo,  somewhat 
hurt.  "Do  not,  I  pray  you,  pretend  to  like 
it  unless  you  really  do.  Of  course  it  is  not 
at  all  the  kind  of  thing  that  will  sell,  is  it — 
and  the  metre  must  be  patched  up  in  places, 
don't  you  think?  And  some  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful passages  would  never  be  permitted  by 
the  censor — but  still — "  and  Colombo  paused 
hopefully,  for  it  was  Colombo's  poem  and 
into  it  he  had  poured  the  heart  of  his  life 
and  it  seemed  to  him  now,  more  than  ever, 
a  beautiful  thing. 

The  stranger  handed  Colombo  a  book. 

[48] 


Cristofer  Colombo 

"There",  said  he,  "is  the  land  of  your  im- 
agining", and  in  his  eyes  gleamed  a  curious 
sardonic  mockery. 

And  Colombo  read  the  book.  And  when 
he  had  finished  his  face  was  grey  as  are  old 
ashes  in  ancient  urns,  and  about  the  mouth 
of  him  whom  men  called  the  Dreamer  were 
curious  hard  lines. 

"Now,  by  Heaven",  said  Colombo  bran- 
dishing his  sword  Impavide,  "you  lie.  And 
your  Gopher  Prairie  is  a  lie.  And  you  are 
all,  all  contemptible,  you  who  dip  your  pens 
in  tracing  ink  and  seek  to  banish  beautiful 
dreams  from  the  world." 

But  the  red-haired  stranger  had  vanished 
and  Colombo  found  that  he  was  alone  and  to 
Colombo  the  world  seemed  cheerless  and  as  a 
place  that  none  has  lived  in  for  a  long  time. 

"Now  this  is  curious",  mused  Colombo, 
"for  I  have  evidently  been  dreaming  and  a 
more  horrible  dream  have  I  never  had,  and 
I  think",  said  Colombo,  "that  while  all  this 
quite  certainly  did  not  actually  take  place,  yet 
that  grinning  red  head  has  upset  mc  horribly 

[49] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

and  on  the  whole",  said  Colombo,  "I  believe 
the  safest  course  would  be  to  put  back  at  once 
for  Spain,  for  certainly  I  have  no  desire  to 
take  the  remotest  chance  of  discovering  any- 
thing which  may  in  the  least  resemble  that 
Gopher  Prairie." 

And  the  tale  tells  that  as  Colombo  started 
for  the  deck  in  order  that  he  might  give  the 
signal  for  the  return  to  Spain,  there  came 
across  the  water  from  one  of  the  other  ships 
the  faint  cry  of  a  sailor.  And  the  sailor  was 
waving  his  hat  and  shouting,  "Land  Ho!" 

Thus  it  was  that  Cristof  er  Colombo  became 
the  discoverer  of  the  land  of  his  imagining, 
and  as  he  stood  on  the  deck  Colombo  mused. 

"Now  this  is  a  sorrowful  jest  and  a  very 
unfair  jest  that  is  happening,"  said  he.  "For 
I  who  have  dreamed  a  beautiful  dream  of  the 
land  of  my  imagining  will  quite  probably 
henceforth  be  known  only  as  the  discoverer 
of  what  will  turn  out  to  be  merely  one  more 
hideous  and  stupid  country."  And  tears  came 
to  the  eyes  of  Colombo,  for  on  the  waves  be- 
hind him  floated  the  torn  and  scattered  pages 

[50] 


THE   RED-HAIRED    STRANGER    APPEIARS 

"  'There,'  said  the  red-haired  stranger,  'is  the  Land  of 
Your  Imagining,'  and  in  his  eyes  gleamed  a  curious 
sardonic  mockery. 

"And  when  Colombo  had  finished  the  book  his  face 
was  grey  as  are  old  ashes  in  ancient  unis,  and  about  the 
mouth  of  him  whom  men  called  the  Dreamer  were 
•nirious  hard  lines." 


Cristofer  Colombo 

of  the  poem  which  sang  the  imagined  vision 
of  Beauty  of  him  whom  men  long  and  long 
ago  called  the  Dreamer. 
Thus  it  was  in  the  old  days. 


ANALYSIS  AND  SUMMARY   OF   THE   FORE- 
GOING ARTICLE 

In  the  Manner  of  Dr.  Frank  Crane 


There  is  a  lesson  for  us  all  in  this  beautiful 
story  of  how  Columbus  realized  his  ambition 
to  be  a  great  discoverer. 

Men  called  Columbus  a  Dreamer — but  that 
is  just  what  folks  once  said  about  Thomas  A. 
Edison  and  Henry  Ford. 

The  world  has  a  place  for  Dreamers — if 
they  are  Practical  Dreamers. 

Columbus  was  ambitious.  Ambition  is  a 
great  thing  if  it  is  unselfish  ambition.  By  un- 
selfish I  mean  for  the  greatest  good  of  the 
greatest  number.  Shakespeare,  the  great 
teacher,  shows  us  in  "Macbeth"  what  hap' 
pens  to  the  selfishly  ambitious  man. 

[S3] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Columbus  got  ahead  by  paying  attention  to 
small  details.  Whatever  he  did,  he  did  to  the 
best  of  his  ability.  Even  when  engaged  in 
teaching  geography  to  the  Queen,  Columbus 
was  the  best  geography  teacher  he  knew  how 
to  be.  And  before  long  he  was  made  Royal 
Geographer. 

In  our  daily  lives  let  us  all  resolve  to  be 
good  teachers  of  geography.  We  may  not  all 
become  Royal  Geographers — but  there  will 
be  to  us  the  lasting  satisfaction  of  having  done 
our  best.  And  that,  as  a  greater  than  I  has 
said,  is  "more  precious  than  rubies — yea,  than 
much  fine  gold". 


[54] 


Chapter  Three 

Main  street:  Plymouth,  Mass. 

In  the  Manner  of  Sinclair  Lewis 


CHAPTER  THREE 

MAIN  STREET— Plymouth,  Mass. 

In  the  Manner  of  Sinclair  Lewis 
I 

1620. 

Late  autumn. 

The  sour  liver-colored  shores  of  America. 

Breaking  waves  dashing  too  high  on  a  stern 
and  rockbound  coast. 

Woods  tossing  giant  branches  planlessly 
against  a  stormy  sky. 

Cape  Cod  Bay — wet  and  full  of  codfish. 
The  codfish — ^wet  and  full  of  bones. 

Standing  on  the  deck  of  the  anchored  "May- 
flower", gazing  reflectively  at  the  shores  of 
the  new  world,  is  Priscilla  Kennicott. 

A  youthful  bride  on  a  ship  full  of  pilgrims ; 

[57] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

a  lily  floating  in  a  dish  of  prunes;  a  cloissone 
vase  in  a  cargo  of  oil  cans. 

Her  husband  joins  her.  Together  they  go 
forward  to  where  their  fellow  pilgrims  are 
preparing  to  embark  in  small  boats. 

Priscilla  jumps  into  the  bow  of  the  first  of 
these  to  shove  off. 

As  the  small  craft  bumps  the  shore,  Pris- 
cilla rises  joyously.  She  stretches  her  hands 
in  ecstasy  toward  the  new  world.  She  leans 
forward  against  the  breeze,  her  whole  figure 
alive  with  the  joy  of  expectant  youth. 

She  leaps  with  an  irrepressible  "Yippee" 
from  the  boat  to  the  shore. 

She  remains  for  an  instant,  a  vibrant  pagan, 
drunk  with  the  joy  of  life;  Pan  poised  for  an 
unforgettable  moment  on  Plymouth  Rock. 

The  next  minute  her  foot  slips  on  the  hard, 
wet,  unyielding  stone.  She  clutches  des- 
perately. She  slides  slowly  back  into  the  cold 
chill  saltness  of  Cape  Cod  Bay. 

She  is  pulled,  dripping  and  ashamed,  into 
the  boat.  She  crouches  there,  shivering  and 
hopeless.    She  hears  someone  whisper,  "Pride 

[S8] 


PRisaLLA  kennicott's  foot  slips 

"Cape  Cod  Bay— wet  and  full  of  codfish. 

"The  codfish— wet  and  full  of  bones. 

"The  next  minute  Priscilla's  foot  slips  on  the  hard, 
wet,  unyielding  rock.  She  clutches  desperately.  She 
shdes  slowly  back  into  tlie  cold,  chill  saltness  of  the  bay. 
She  is  pulled,  dripping  and  ashamed,  into  the  boat. 

"A  coarse,  mirthless  chuckle. 

"The  pilgrims  disembark." 


Main  Street — Plymouth,  Mass. 

goeth  before  destruction,  and  a  haughty  spirit 
before  a  fall." 

A  coarse  mirthless  chuckle. 

The  pilgrims  disembark. 

II 

Plymouth. 

A  year  later. 

Night. 

She  lay  sleepless  on  her  bed. 

She  heard  the  outside  door  open;  Kennicott 
returning  from  prayer  meeting. 

He  sat  down  on  the  bed  and  began  pulling 
oflf  his  boots.  She  knew  that  the  left  boot 
would  stick.  She  knew  exactly  what  he  would 
say  and  how  long  it  would  take  him  to  get  it 
off.  She  rolled  over  in  bed,  a  tactical  move- 
ment which  left  no  blanket  for  her  husband. 

"You  weren't  at  prayer  meeting,"  he  said. 

"I  had  a  headache,"  she  lied.  He  ex- 
pressed no  sympathy. 

"Miles  Standish  was  telling  me  what  you 
did  today  at  the  meeting  of  the  Jolly  Seven- 
teen."   He  had  got  the  boot  ofi.  at  last;  he  lay 

[61] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

down  beside  her  and  pulled  all  the  blankets 
off  her  onto  himself. 

"That  was  kind  of  Miles."  She  jerked  at 
the  covers  but  he  held  them  tight.  "What 
charming  story  did  he  tell  this  time?" 

"Now  look  here,  Prissie — Miles  Standish 
isn't  given  to  fabrication.  He  said  you  told 
the  Jolly  Seventeen  that  next  Thanksgiving 
they  ought  to  give  a  dance  instead  of  an  all- 
day  prayer  service." 

"Well — anything  else?"  She  gave  a  tre- 
mendous tug  at  the  bedclothes  and  Kennicott 
was  uncovered  again. 

"He  said  you  suggested  that  they  arrange 
a  series  of  lectures  on  modern  religions,  and 
invite  Quakers  and  other  radicals  to  speak 
right  here  in  Plymouth  and  tell  us  all  about 
their  beliefs.  And  not  only  that  but  he  said 
you  suggested  sending  a  message  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  exiles  from  England,  inviting  them 
to  make  their  home  with  us.  You  must  have 
made  quite  a  little  speech." 

"Well — this  is  the  land  of  religious  free- 
dom, isn't  it?   That's  what  you  came  here  for, 

[62] 


THE    MEETING    OF   THE   JOLLY    SEVENTEEN 

"  'Priscilla,  .  .  .  Miles  Standish  said  today  that  you 
told  the  Jolly  Seventeen  that  next  Thanksgiving  they 
ought  to  give  a  dance  instead  of  a  prayer  meeting  .  .  . 
and  that  you  suggested  they  invite  Quakers  and  other 
radicals  to  lecture  here  in  Plymouth  and  tell  us  all 
about  their  beliefs.' " 


Main  Street — Plymouth,  Mass. 

didn't  you?"  She  sat  up  to  deliver  this  re- 
mark— a  movement  which  enabled  Kennicott 
to  vv^in  back  seven-eighths  of  the  bed  covering. 

"Now  look  here  Prissie — I'm  not  narrow 
like  some  of  these  pilgrims  who  came  over 
with  us.  But  I  won't  have  my  wife  intimating 
that  a  Roman  Catholic  or  a  Quaker  should  be 
allowed  to  spread  his  heresies  broadcast  in 
this  country.  It's  all  right  for  you  and  me  to 
know  something  about  those  things,  but  we 
must  protect  our  children  and  those  who  have 
not  had  our  advantages.  The  only  way  to 
meet  this  evil  is  to  stamp  it  out,  quick,  before 
it  can  get  a  start.  And  it's  just  such  so-called 
broadminded  thinkers  as  you  that  encourage 
these  heretics.  You'll  be  criticizing  the  Bible 
next,  I  suppose." 

Thus  in  early  times  did  the  pious  Right 
Thinkers  save  the  land  from  Hellfire  and 
Damnation;  thus  the  great-grandfathers  of 
middle-western  congressmen;  thus  the  an- 
cestors of  platitudinous  editorial  writers,  Sit- 
ters on  Committees,  and  tin-horn  prohibition- 
ists. 

[65] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Kennicott  got  up  to  cool  his  wrath  and  in- 
dignation with  a  drink  of  water.  He  stum- 
bled over  a  chair,  reached  for  the  jug,  took 
a  drink,  set  the  jug  down,  stumbled  over  the 
same  chair,  and  crawled  back  into  bed.  His 
expedition  cost  him  the  loss  of  all  bed  cover- 
ing; he  gave  up  the  fight. 

"Aside  from  dragging  my  own  private 
views  over  the  coals  of  your  righteousness,  did 
you  and  your  friends  find  anything  equally 
pleasant  and  self-satisfying  to  discuss  this 
evening?" 

"Eh — what's  that?  Why,  yes,  we  did.  We 
decided  to  refuse  permission  for  one  of  these 
traveling  medicine  shows  to  operate  in 
Plymouth." 

"Medicine  shows?" 

"Yes — you  know — like  a  fair  in  England. 
This  one  claims  to  come  from  down  south 
somewhere.  'Smart  Set  Medicine  Show'  it's 
called,  run  by  a  fellow  named  Mencken.  Sells 
cheap  whisky  to  the  Indians — makes  them 
crazy,  they  say.  He's  another  one  of  your 
radical  friends  we  don't  want  around." 

[66] 


Main  Street — Plymouth,  Mass, 

"Yes,  he  might  cut  in  on  your  own  trading 
with  the  Indians." 

"Oh,  for  heaven's  sake,  Prissie — hire  a 
hall." 

Silence.    He  began  to  snore. 

She  lay  there,  sleepless  and  open-eyed.  The 
clock  struck  eleven. 

"Why  can't  I  get  to  sleep?" 

("Did  Will  put  the  cat  out?") 

"I  wonder  what  this  medicine  show  is 
like?" 

"What  is  the  matter  with  these  people?" 

("Or  is  it  me?") 

She  reached  down,  pulled  the  blankets 
from  under  her,  spread  them  carefully  over 
the  sleeping  Kennicott,  patting  them  down 
affectionately. 

The  next  day  she  learned  what  the  medicine 
show  was  like.  She  also  learned  what  was  the 
matter  with  the  pilgrims. 

Ill 

Morning. 
A  fog  horn. 

[67] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

A  fog  horn  blowing  unceasingly. 

At  breakfast  Kennicott  pointed  with  his 
fork  in  the  direction  of  the  persistent  sound. 

"There's  your  Smart  Set  medicine  show," 
he  said  glumly.  "He  doesn't  seem  to  care 
much  whether  we  give  him  a  permit  or  not." 
Then,  a  minute  later,  "We'll  have  to  let  him 
stay.  Won't  do  to  have  the  Indians  down  on 
us.  But  I  tell  you  this,  Priscilla,  I  don't  want 
you  to  go." 

"But  Will—" 

"Prissie,  please!  I'm  sorry  I  said  what  I 
did  last  night.  I  was  tired.  But  don't  you 
see,  well,  I  can't  just  exactly  explain — but  this 
fog  horn  sort  of  scares  me — I  don't  like  it — " 

He  suddenly  rose  and  put  both  hands  on 
her  shoulders.  He  looked  into  her  eyes.  He 
leaned  over  and  kissed  her  on  the  forehead. 
He  picked  up  his  hat  and  was  gone.  It  was 
five  minutes  before  Priscilla  noticed  that  his 
breakfast  had  been  left  untouched. 

A  fog  horn,  sounding  unceasingly. 
She  listlessly  put  away  the  breakfast  dishes. 
She  tried  to  drown  out  the  sound  by  singing 

[68] 


THE    SMART    SET    MEDICINE    SHOW 

"  'Smart  Set  Medicine  Show,  it's  called,  run  by  a 
fellow  named  Mencken.  Sells  cheap  whiskey  to  the 
Indians — makes  them  crazy,  they  say.' " 


Main  Street — Plymouth,  Mass. 

hymns.  She  fell  on  her  knees  and  tried  to 
pray.  She  found  her  prayers  keeping  time  to 
the  rise  and  fall  of  the  notes  of  that  horn.  She 
determined  to  go  out  in  the  air — to  find  her 
husband — to  go  to  church,  anywhere — as  far 
as  possible  from  the  Smart  Set  medicine  show. 
So  she  went  out  the  back  door  and  ran  as 
fast  as  she  could  toward  the  place  from  which 
came  the  sound  of  the  fog  horn. 

IV 

An  open  space  on  the  edge  of  the  forest. 

In  the  centre  of  the  clearing  a  small  gaud- 
ily-painted tent. 

Seated  on  the  ground  in  a  semicircle  before 
the  tent,  some  forty  or  fifty  Indians. 

Standing  on  a  box  before  the  entrance  to 
the  tent,  a  man  of  twenty-five  or  fifty. 

In  his  left  hand  he  holds  a  fog  horn;  in  his 
right,  a  stein  of  beer. 

He  puts  the  horn  to  his  lips  and  blows  a 
heavy  blast. 

He    bellows,    "Beauty — Beauty — Beauty!" 

He  takes  a  drink  of  beer. 

[70 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

He  repeats  this  performance  nine  times. 

He  takes  up  some  mud  and  deftly  models 
the  features  of  several  well-known  characters 
— statesmen,  writers,  critics.  In  many  cases 
the  resemblance  is  so  slight  that  Priscilla  can 
hardly  recognize  the  character. 

He  picks  up  a  heavy  club  and  proceeds  to 
beat  each  one  of  his  modeled  figures  into  a 
pulp. 

The  Indians  applaud  wildly. 

He  pays  no  attention  to  this  applause. 

He  clears  his  throat  and  begins  to  speak. 
Priscilla  is  so  deafened  by  the  roar  of  his  voice 
that  she  cannot  hear  what  he  says.  Apparent- 
ly he  is  introducing  somebody;  somebody 
named  George. 

George  steps  out  of  the  tent,  but  does  not 
bow  to  the  audience.  In  one  hand  he  carries 
a  fencing  foil,  well  constructed,  of  European 
workmanship;  in  his  other  hand  he  holds  a 
number  of  pretty  toy  balloons  which  he  has 
made  himself. 

He  smiles  sarcastically,  tosses  the  balloons 

[72] 


Main  Street — Plymouth,  Mass. 

into  the  air,  and  cleverly  punctures  them  one 
by  one  with  his  rapier. 

At  each  ''pop"  the  announcer  blows  a  loud 
blast  on  the  fog  horn. 

When  the  last  balloon  has  been  punctured 
George  retires  without  acknowledging  the  ap- 
plause of  the  Indians. 

The  next  act  is  announced  as  Helen  of  Troy 
in  "Six  Minutes  of  Beauty".  Priscilla  learns 
from  the  announcer  that  "this  little  lady  is  out 
of  'Irony'  by  Theodore  Dreiser". 

"All  ready,  Helen—" 

The  "little  lady"  appears. 

She  is  somewhat  over  six  feet  six  in  height 
and  built  like  a  boilermaker.  She  is  dressed 
in  pink  tights. 

"Six  Minutes  of  Beauty"  begins  when 
Helen  picks  up  three  large  iron  cannon  balls 
and  juggles  them.  She  tosses  them  in  the  air 
and  catches  them  cleverly  on  the  back  of  her 
neck. 

The  six  minutes  are  brought  to  a  successful 
conclusion  when  Helen,  hanging  head  down- 
ward by  one  foot  from  a  trapeze,  balances  a 

[73] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

lighted  lamp  on  the  other  foot  and  plays  Beet- 
hoven's Fifth  Symphony  on  the  slide  trom- 
bone. 

The  announcer  then  begins  his  lecture. 
Priscilla  has  by  this  time  gotten  used  to  the 
overpowering  roar  of  his  voice  and  she  dis- 
covers that  once  this  difficulty  is  overcome  she 
is  tremendously  impressed  by  his  words. 

She  becomes  more  and  more  attracted  to 
the  man.  She  listens,  fascinated,  as  his  lec- 
ture draws  to  a  close  and  he  offers  his  medi- 
cine for  sale.  She  presses  forward  through 
the  crowd  of  Indians  surrounding  the  stand. 
She  reaches  the  tent.  She  gives  her  coin  and 
receives  in  return  a  bottle.  She  hides  it  in  her 
cape  and  hurries  home. 

She  slips  in  the  back  way;  she  pours  some 
of  the  medicine  into  a  glass;  she  drinks  it. 


A  terrible  overwhelming  nausea.  Vomit- 
ing, which  lasts  for  agonizing  minutes,  leav- 
ing her  helpless  on  the  floor. 

[74] 


Main  Street — Plymouth,  Mass, 

Then  cessation. 

Then  light — blinding  light. 

VI 

At  3  :  10  Priscilla  drank  the  Mencken  medl- 
cine;  at  3:12  she  was  lying  in  agony  on  the 
floor;  at  3  :20  she  opened  her  eyes;  at  3  :2i  she 
walked  out  of  her  front  door;  and  at  3  :22  she 
discovered  what  was  wrong  with  Plymouth 
and  the  pilgrims. 

Main  Street.  Straight  and  narrow.  A 
Puritan  thoroughfare  in  a  Puritan  town. 

The  church.  A  centre  of  Puritan  worship. 
The  shrine  of  a  narrow  theology  which  per- 
sistently repressed  beauty  and  joy  and  life. 

The  Miles  Standish  house.  The  house  of 
a  Puritan.  A  squat,  unlovely  symbol  of  re- 
pression.    Beauty  crushed  by  Morality. 

Plymouth  Rock.  Hard,  unyielding — like 
the  Puritan  moral  code.  A  huge  tombstone 
on  the  grave  of  Pan. 

She  fled  home.  She  flung  herself,  sobbing, 
on  the  bed.  She  cried,  "They're  all  Puritans 
— that's  what  they  are,  Puritans  1" 

[7S] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

After  a  while  she  slept,  her  cheeks  flushed, 
her  heart  beating  unnaturally. 

VII 

Late  that  night. 

She  opened  her  eyes;  she  heard  men's 
voices ;  she  felt  her  heart  still  pounding  within 
her  at  an  alarming  rate. 

"And  I  told  them  then  that  it  would  come 
to  no  good  end.  Truly,  the  Lord  does  not 
countenance  such  joking." 

She  recognized  the  voices  of  Miles  Stand- 
ish  and  Elder  Brewster. 

"Well — what  happened  then?"  This  from 
Kennicott. 

"Well,  you  see,  Henry  Haydock  got  some 
of  this  Mencken's  medicine  from  one  of  the 
Indians.  And  he  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
joke  to  put  it  in  the  broth  at  the  church  sup- 
per this  evening." 

"Yes?" 

"Well— he  did  it,  the  fool.  And  when  the 
broth  was  served,  hell  on  earth  broke  loose. 
Everyone  started  calling  his  neighbor  a  Puri- 

[76] 


Main  Street — Flvmout/i,  Mass. 

tan,  and  cursing  him  for  having  banished 
Beauty  from  the  earth.  The  Lord  knows  what 
they  meant  by  that;  I  don't.  Old  friends 
fought  like  wildcats,  shrieking  'Puritan'  at 
each  other.  Luckily  it  only  got  to  one  table 
— but  there  are  ten  raving  lunatics  in  the 
lockup  tonight. 

"It's  an  awful  thing.  But  thanks  to  the 
Lord,  some  good  has  come  out  of  this  evil: 
that  medicine  man,  Mencken,  was  standing 
outside  looking  in  at  the  rumpus,  smiling  to 
himself  I  guess.  Well,  somebody  saw  him 
and  yelled,  'There's  another  of  those  damned 
Puritans!'  and  before  he  could  get  away  five 
of  them  had  jumped  on  him  and  beaten  him 
to  death.  He  deserved  it,  and  it's  a  good  joke 
on  him  that  they  killed  him  for  being  a  Puri- 
tan." 

Priscilla  could  stand  no  more.  She  rose 
from  her  bed,  rushed  into  the  room,  and  faced 
the  three  Puritans.  In  the  voice  of  Priscilla 
Kennicott  but  with  the  words  of  the  medicine 
man  she  scourged  them. 

"A  good  joke?"  she  began.     "And  that  is 

[771 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

what  you  Puritan  gentlemen  of  God  and  vol- 
canoes of  Correct  Thought  snuffle  over  as  a 
good  joke?  Well,  v^ith  the  highest  respect  to 
Professor  Doctor  Miles  Standish,  the  Puritan 
Hearse-hound,  and  Professor  Doctor  Elder 
Brev^ster,  the  Plymouth  Dr.  Frank  Crane — 
Blaa!" 

She  shrieked  this  last  in  their  faces  and 
fell  lifeless  at  their  feet. 

She  never  recovered  consciousness;  an  hour 
later  she  died.  An  overdose  of  the  medicine 
had  been  too  much  for  her  weak  heart. 

"Poor  William,"  comforted  Elder  Brew- 
ster, "you  must  be  brave.  You  will  miss  her 
sorely.  But  console  yourself  with  the  thought 
that  it  was  for  the  best.  Priscilla  has  gone 
where  she  will  always  be  happy.  She  has  at 
last  found  that  bliss  which  she  searched  for 
in  vain  on  earth." 

"Yes  William,"  added  Miles  Standish. 
"Priscilla  has  now  found  eternal  joy." 

VIII 
Heaven. 
Smug  saints  with  ill-fitting  halos  and  imi- 

[78] 


Main  Street — Plymouth,  Mass, 

tation  wings,  singing  meaningless  hymns 
which  Priscilla  had  heard  countless  times  be- 
fore. 

Sleek  prosaic  angels  flying  aimlessly  around 
playing  stale  songs  on  sickly  yellow  harps. 

Three  of  the  harps  badly  out  of  tune;  two 
strings  missing  on  another. 

Moses,  a  Jew. 

Methuselah,  another  Jew.  Old  and  un- 
shaven. 

Priscilla  threw  herself  on  a  cloud,  sobbing. 

"Well,  sister,  what  seems  to  be  the  matter 
here?" 

She  looked  up;  she  saw  a  sympathetic 
stranger  looking  down  at  her. 

"Because  you  know,  sister,"  he  went  on,  "if 
you  don't  like  it  here  you  can  always  go  back 
any  time  you  want  to." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say,"  gasped  Priscilla, 
"that  I  can  return  to  earth?" 

"You  certainly  can,"  said  the  stranger. 
"I'm  sort  of  manager  here,  and  whenever  you 
see  any  particular  part  of  the  earth  you'd  like 

[79] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

to  live  in,  you  just  let  me  know  and  I'll  ar- 
range it." 

He  smiled  and  was  gone. 

IX 

It  was  two  hundred  years  before  Priscilla 
Kennicott  definitely  decided  that  she  could 
stand  it  no  longer  in  heaven ;  it  was  another 
hundred  years  before  she  located  a  desirable 
place  on  earth  to  return  to. 

She  finally  selected  a  small  town  in  the 
American  northwest,  far  from  the  Puritan- 
tainted  Plymouth ;  a  small  town  in  the  midst 
of  fields  of  beautiful  waving  grain;  a  small 
town  free  from  the  artificiality  of  large  cities; 
a  small  town  named  Gopher  Prairie. 

She  made  known  her  desire  to  the  manager; 
she  said  goodby  to  a  small  group  of  friends 
who  had  gathered  to  see  her  off;  she  heard 
the  sound  of  the  eternal  harp  playing  and 
hymn  singing  grow  gradually  fainter  and 
fainter;  she  closed  her  eyes. 

When  she  opened  them  again  she  found 
herself  on  Main  Street  in  Gopher  Prairie. 

[80] 


Main  Street — Plymouth,  Mass, 

X 

From  the  "Heavenly  Harp  and  Trumpet": 

Mrs.  Priscilla  Kennicott,  one  of  our  most  popular 
angels,  left  these  parts  last  Tuesday  for  an  extended  visit 
to  the  Earth.  Mrs.  K.  confided  to  Ye  Editor  that  she 
would  probably  take  up  her  residence  in  Gopher  Prairie, 
Minn.,  under  the  name  of  Carol  Kennicott.  The  "Harp 
and  Trumpet"  felicitates  the  citizens  of  Gopher  Prairie 
on  their  acquisition  of  a  charming  and  up-to-date  young 
matron  whose  absence  will  be  keenly  regretted  by  her 
many  friends  in  the  heavenly  younger  married  set.  Good 
luck,  Priscilla! 

XI 

Heaven. 

Five  years  later. 

The  monthly  meeting  of  the  Celestial 
Browning  Club. 

Seated  in  the  chair  reserved  for  the  guest 
of  honor,  the  manager. 

The  meeting  opens  as  usual  with  a  reading 
by  Brother  Robert  Browning  of  his  poem 
"Pippa  Passes";  as  he  proclaims  that  "God's 
in  his  heaven,  all's  right  with  the  world",  the 
members  applaud  and  the  manager  rises  and 
bows. 

The  chairman  announces  that  "today  we 
take  up  a  subject  in  which  I  am  sure  we  are  all 

[8i] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

extremely  interested — the  popular  literature 
of  the  United  States". 

The  members  listen  to  selected  extracts 
from  the  writings  of  Gene  Stratton-Porter, 
Zane  Grey,  and  Harold  Bell  Wright;  at  the 
conclusion  they  applaud  and  the  manager 
again  bows. 

"I  am  sure",  says  the  chairman,  "that  we 
are  all  glad  to  hear  that  things  are  going  so 
nicely  in  the  United  States."  (Applause.) 
"And  now,  in  conclusion.  Brother  Voltaire 
has  requested  permission  to  address  us  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  I  am  sure  that  anything 
Brother  Voltaire  has  to  say  will  be  eminently 
worthwhile." 

Brother  Voltaire  rises  and  announces  that 
he  has  listened  with  interest  to  the  discussion 
of  American  literature;  that  he,  too,  rejoices 
that  all  is  well  in  this  best  of  all  possible 
United  States;  and  that  he  hopes  they  will 
pardon  him  if  he  supplements  the  program  by 
reading  a  few  extracts  from  another  extremely 
popular  American  book  recently  published 
under  the  name  of  "Main  Street". 

[82] 


Main  Street — Plyinouth,  Mass. 

XII 

At  the  next  meeting  of  the  Celestial  Brown- 
ing Club  it  was  unanimously  voted  that  the 
privileges  of  the  club  be  denied  Brother  Vol- 
taire for  the  period  of  one  year,  and  that  the 
name  of  Priscilla  Kennicott  be  stricken  from 
the  list  of  non-resident  members  of  heaven. 


[83] 


Chapter  Four 

The  COURTSFIIP  of  Miles  Standish. 

In  the  Manner  of  F.  Scott  Fitzgerald 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES 
STANDISH 

In  the  Manner  of  F.  Scott  Fitzgerald 

This  story  occurs  under  the  blue  skies  and 
bluer  laws  of  Puritan  New  England,  in  the 
days  when  religion  was  still  taken  seriously 
by  a  great  many  people,  and  in  the  town  of 
Plymouth  where  the  "Mayflower",  having 
ploughed  its  platitudinous  way  from  Holland, 
had  landed  its  precious  cargo  of  pious  Right 
Thinkers,  moral  Gentlemen  of  God,  and — 
Priscilla. 

Priscilla  was — well,  Priscilla  had  yellow 
hair.  In  a  later  generation,  in  a  1921  June, 
if  she  had  toddled  by  at  a  country  club  dance 
you  would  have  noticed  first  of  all  that  glori- 
ous mass  of  bobbed  corn-colored  locks.  You 
would,  then,  perhaps,  have  glanced  idly  at  her 

[87] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

face,  and  suddenly  said  "Oh  my  gosh!"  The 
next  moment  you  would  have  clutched  the 
nearest  stag  and  hissed,  "Quick — yellow  hair 
— silver  dress — oh  Judas!"  You  would  then 
have  been  introduced,  and  after  dancing  nine 
feet  you  would  have  been  cut  in  on  by  another 
panting  stag.  In  those  nine  delirious  feet  you 
would  have  become  completely  dazed  by  one 
of  the  smoothest  lines  since  the  building  of  the 
Southern  Pacific.  You  would  then  have  bor- 
rowed somebody's  flask,  gone  into  the  locker 
room  and  gotten  an  edge — not  a  bachelor- 
dinner  edge  but  just  enough  to  give  you  the 
proper  amount  of  confidence.  You  would 
have  returned  to  the  ballroom,  cut  in  on  this 
twentieth  century  Priscilla,  and  taken  her  and 
your  edge  out  to  a  convenient  limousine,  or 
the  first  tee. 

It  was  of  some  such  yellow-haired  Priscilla 
that  Homer  dreamed  when  he  smote  his  lyre 
and  chanted,  "I  sing  of  arms  and  the  man"; 
it  was  at  the  sight  of  such  as  she  that  rare  Ben 
Johnson's  Dr.  Faustus  cried,  "Was  this  the 
face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships?"    In  all 

[88] 


Courtship  of  Miles  Standish 

ages  has  such  beauty  enchanted  the  minds  of 
men,  calling  forth  in  one  century  the  Fiesolian 
terza  rima  of  "Paradise  Lost",  in  another  the 
passionate  arias  of  a  dozen  Beethoven  sym- 
phonies. In  1620  the  pagan  daughter  of 
Helen  of  Troy  and  Cleopatra  of  the  Nile  hap- 
pened, by  a  characteristic  jest  of  the  great 
Ironist,  to  embark  with  her  aunt  on  the  "May- 
flower". 

Like  all  girls  of  eighteen  Priscilla  had 
learned  to  kiss  and  be  kissed  on  every  possible 
occasion;  in  the  exotic  and  not  at  all  uncom- 
mon pleasure  of  "petting"  she  had  acquired 
infinite  wisdom  and  complete  disillusionment. 
But  in  all  her  "petting  parties"  on  the  "May- 
flower" and  in  Plymouth  she  had  found  no 
Puritan  who  held  her  interest  beyond  the  first 
kiss,  and  she  had  lately  reverted  in  sheer  bore- 
dom to  her  boarding  school  habit  of  drinking 
gin  in  large  quantities — a  habit  which  was  not 
entirely  approved  of  by  her  old-fashioned 
aunt,  although  Mrs.  Brewster  was  glad  to 
have  her  niece  stay  at  home  in  the  evenings 
"instead",   as   she   told   Mrs.   Bradford,   "of 

[89] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

running  around  with  those  boys,  and  really, 
my  dear,  Priscilla  says  some  of  the  funniest 
things  when  she  gets  a  little — er — 'boiled',  as 
she  calls  it — you  must  come  over  some  eve- 
ning, and  bring  the  governor." 

Mrs.  Brewster,  Priscilla's  aunt,  is  the  an- 
cestor of  all  New  England  aunts.  She  may 
be  seen  today  walking  down  Tremont  Street, 
Boston,  in  her  Educator  shoes  on  her  way  to 
S.  S.  Pierce's  which  she  pronounces  to  rhyme 
with  hearse.  The  twentieth  century  Mrs. 
Brewster  wears  a  highnecked  black  silk  waist 
with  a  chatelaine  watch  pinned  over  her  left 
breast  and  a  spot  of  Gordon's  codfish  (no 
bones)  over  her  right.  When  a  little  girl  she 
was  taken  to  see  Longfellow,  Lowell,  and 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson;  she  speaks  familiar- 
ly of  the  James  boys,  but  this  has  no  reference 
to  the  well-known  Missouri  outlaws.  She 
was  brought  up  on  blueberry  cake,  Postum, 
and  "The  Atlantic  Monthly";  she  loves  the 
Boston  "Transcript",  God,  and  her  relatives 
in  Newton  Centre.  Her  idea  of  a  daring  joke 
is  the  remark  Susan  Hale  made  to  Edward 

[90] 


Courtship  of  Miles  Standish 

Everett  Hale  about  sending  underwear  to  the 
heathen.  She  once  asked  Donald  Ogden 
Stewart  to  dinner  with  her  niece;  she  didn't 
think  his  story  about  the  lady  mind  reader 
who  read  the  man's  mind  and  then  slapped 
his  face,  was  very  funny;  she  never  asked  him 
again. 

The  action  of  this  story  all  takes  place  in  MRS. 
Brewster's  Plymouth  home  on  two  succes- 
sive June  evenings.  As  the  figurative  cur- 
tain rises  MRS.  BREWSTER  is  sitting  at  a  desk 
reading  the  latest  instalment  of  Foxe's 
''Book  of  Martyrs''. 
The  sound  of  a  clanking  sword  is  heard  out- 
side. Mrs.  Brewster  looks  up,  smiles  to 
herself,  and  goes  on  reading.  A  knock — a 
timid  knock. 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Come  in. 

{Enter  CAPTAIN  MiLES  STANDISH,  whis- 
kered and  forty.  In  a  later  generation, 
with  that  imposing  mustache  and  his 
hatred  of  Indians,  Miles  would  undoubt- 
edly have  been  a  bank  president.  At 
present  he  seems  somewhat  ill  at  ease, 

[91] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

and  obviously  relieved  to  find  only  PriS- 
CILLA'S  aunt  at  home.) 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Good  evening,  Captain 
Standish. 

Miles:  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Brewster.  It's 
— it's  cool  for  June,  isn't  it? 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Yes.  I  suppose  v^^e'll  pay 
for  it  with  a  hot  July,  though. 

Miles  (nervously):  Yes,  but  it — it  is  cool 
for  June,  isn't  it? 

Mrs.  Brew^ster:  So  you  said,  Captain. 

Miles:  Yes.    So  I  said,  didn't  I? 

(Silence.) 

Miles:  Mistress  Priscilla  isn't  home,  then? 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Why,  I  don't  think  so, 
Captain.  But  I  never  can  be  sure  where  Pris- 
cilla is. 

Miles  (eagerly):  She's  a — a  fine  girl,  isn't 
she?    A  fine  girl. 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Why,  yes.  Of  course, 
Priscilla  has  her  faults — but  she'd  make  some 
man  a  fine  wife — some  man  who  knew  how 
to  handle  her — an  older  man,  with  experience. 

Miles:  Do  you  really  think  so,  Mrs.  Brew- 

[92] 


Courtship  of  Miles  Standish 

ster?  (After  a  minute.)  Do  you  think  Pris- 
cilla  is  thinking  about  marrying  anybody  in 
particular? 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Well,  I  can't  say,  Cap- 
tain. You  know — she's  a  little  wild.  Her 
mother  was  wild,  too,  you  know — that  is,  be- 
fore the  Lord  spoke  to  her.  They  say  she  used 
to  be  seen  at  the  Mermaid  Tavern  in  London 
with  all  those  play-acting  people.  She  al- 
ways used  to  say  that  Priscilla  would  marry 
a  military  man. 

Miles:  A  military  man?  Well,  now  tell 
me  Mrs.  Brewster,  do  you  think  that  a  sweet 
delicate  creature  like  Priscilla — 

A  VOICE  (in  the  next  room):  Oh  DAMN! 

Mrs.  Brewster:  That  must  be  Priscilla 
now. 

The  Voice:  Auntie! 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Yes,  Priscilla  dear. 

The  Voice:  Where  in  hell  did  you  put  the 
vermouth? 

Mrs.  Brewster:  In  the  cupboard,  dear.  I 
do  hope  you  aren't  going  to  get — er — "boiled" 
again  tonight,  Priscilla. 

[93] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

(Enter  PriSCILLA,  infinitely  radiant,  infin- 
itely beautiful,  with  a  bottle  of  vermouth 
in  one  hand  and  a  jug  of  gin  in  the  other.) 

Priscilla:  Auntie,  that  was  a  dirty  trick  to 
hide  the  vermouth.  Hello  Miles — shoot 
many  Indians  today? 

Miles:  Why — er — er — no,  Mistress  Pris- 
cilla. 

Priscilla:  Wish  you'd  take  me  with  you 
next  time,  Miles.  I'd  love  to  shoot  an  In- 
dian, wouldn't  you,  auntie? 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Priscilla!  What  an  idea! 
And  please  dear,  give  Auntie  Brewster  the  gin. 
I — er — promised  to  take  some  to  the  church 
social  tonight  and  it's  almost  all  gone  now. 

Miles:  I  didn't  see  you  at  church  last 
night,  Mistress  Priscilla. 

Priscilla:  Well  I'll  tell  you,  Miles.  I 
started  to  go  to  church — really  felt  awfully 
religious.  But  just  as  I  was  leaving  I  thought, 
"Priscilla,  how  about  a  drink — just  one  little 
drink?"  You  know.  Miles,  church  goes  so 
much  better  when  you're  just  a  little  boiled — 
the  lights  and  everything  just  kind  of — oh,  its 

[94] 


Courtship  of  Miles  Standish 

glorious.  Well  last  night,  after  I'd  had  a  lit- 
tle liquor,  the  funniest  thing  happened.  I 
felt  awfully  good,  not  like  church  at  all — so  I 
just  thought  I'd  take  a  walk  in  the  woods. 
And  I  came  to  a  pool — a  wonderful  honest- 
to-God  pool — with  the  moon  shining  right  in- 
to the  middle  of  it.  So  I  just  undressed  and 
dove  in  and  it  was  the  most  marvelous  thing 
in  the  world.  And  then  I  danced  on  the  bank 
in  the  grass  and  the  moonlight — oh,  Lordy, 
Miles,  you  ought  to  have  seen  me. 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Priscilla! 

Priscilla:  'Scuse  me,  Auntie  Brewster. 
And  then  I  just  lay  in  the  grass  and  sang  and 
laughed. 

Mrs.  Brewster:  Dear,  you'll  catch  your 
death  of  cold  one  of  these  nights.  I  hope 
you'll  excuse  me.  Captain  Standish;  it's  time 
I  was  going  to  our  social.  I'll  leave  Priscilla 
to  entertain  you.  Now  be  a  good  girl,  Pris- 
cilla, and  please  dear  don't  drink  straight  ver- 
mouth— remember  what  happened  last  time. 
Good  night.  Captain — good  night,  dear. 

(Exit  Mrs.  Brewster  with  gin.) 

[95] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Priscilla:    Oh    damn!     What'll   we   do, 
Miles — I'm  getting  awfully  sleepy. 

Miles:  Why — we  might — er — pet  a  bit. 
Priscilla  (yawning):  No.    I'm  too  tired — 
besides,  I  hate  whiskers. 

Miles:  Yes,  that's  so,  I  remember. 
(Ten  minutes*  silence,  with  MiLES  looking 
sentimentally  into  the  fireplace,  PRISCILLA 
curled  up  in  a  chair  on  the  other  side.) 
Miles:  I  was — your  aunt  and  I — we  were 
talking  about  you  before  you  came  in.    It  was 
a  talk  that  meant  a  lot  to  me. 

Priscilla:  Miles,  would  you  mind  closing 
that  window? 

(Miles  closes  the  window  and  returns  to 

his  chair  by  the  fireplace.) 
Miles:  And  your  aunt  told  me  that  your 
mother  said  you  would  some  day  marry  a 
military  man. 

Priscilla:  Miles,  would  you  mind  passing 
me  that  pillow  over  there? 

(Miles  gets  up,  takes  the  pillow  to  PRIS- 
CILLA and  again  sits  down. 
Miles:  And  I  thought  that  if  you  wanted 

[96] 


Courtship  of  Miles  Standish 

a  military  man  why — well,  I've  always 
thought  a  great  deal  of  you,  Mistress  Priscilla 
— and  since  my  Rose  died  I've  been  pretty 
lonely,  and  while  I'm  nothing  but  a  rough  old 
soldier  yet — well,  what  I'm  driving  at  is — you 
see,  maybe  you  and  I  could  sort  of — well,  I'm 
not  much  of  a  hand  at  fancy  love  speeches 
and  all  that — but — 

(He  is  interrupted  by  a  snore.  He  glances 
up  and  sees  that  PRISCILLA  has  fallen 
fast  asleep.  He  sits  looking  hopelessly 
into  the  fireplace  for  a  long  time,  then 
gets  up,  puts  on  his  hat  and  tiptoes  out  of 
the  door.) 

THE  NEXT  EVENING 

Priscilla  is  sitting  alone,  lost  in  revery,  be- 
fore the  fireplace.  It  is  almost  as  if  she 
had  not  moved  since  the  evening  before. 

A  knock,  and  the  door  opens  to  admit  JOHN 
AldEN^    nonchalant,    disillusioned,    and 
twenty-one. 
John  :  Good  evening.    Hope  I  don't  bother 

you. 

[97] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Priscilla:  The  only  people  who  bother  me 
are  women  who  tell  me  I'm  beautiful  and 
men  who  don't. 

John:  Not  a  very  brilliant  epigram — but 
still — yes,  you  are  beautiful. 

Priscilla:  Of  course,  if  it's  an  effort  for 
you  to  say — 

John:  Nothing  is  worthwhile  without  ef- 
fort. 

Priscilla:  Sounds  like  Miles  Standish; 
many  things  I  do  without  effort  are  worth- 
while; I  am  beautiful  without  the  slightest 
effort. 

John  :  Yes,  you're  right.  I  could  kiss  you 
without  any  effort — and  that  would  be  worth- 
while— perhaps. 

Priscilla:  Kissing  me  would  prove  noth- 
ing.   I  kiss  as  casually  as  I  breathe. 

John:  And  if  you  didn't  breathe — or  kiss 
— ^you  would  die. 

Priscilla:  Any  woman  would. 

John:  Then  you  are  like  other  women. 
How  unfortunate. 

[98] 


Courtship  of  Miles  Standish 

Priscilla:  I  am  like  no  woman  you  ever 
knew. 

John:  You  arouse  my  curiosity. 

Priscilla:  Curiosity  killed  a  cat. 

John:  A  cat  may  look  at  a — Queen. 

Priscilla:  And  a  Queen  keeps  cats  for  her 
amusement.  They  purr  so  delightfully  when 
she  pets  them. 

John:  I  never  learned  to  purr;  it  must  be 
amusing — for  the  Queen. 

Priscilla:  Let  me  teach  you.  I'm  starting 
a  new  class  tonight. 

John:  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't  afford  to  pay 
the  tuition. 

Priscilla:  For  a  few  exceptionally  meri- 
torious pupils,  various  scholarships  and  fel- 
lowships have  been  provided. 

John:  By  whom?    Old  graduates? 

Priscilla:  No — the  institution  has  been  en- 
dowed by  God — 

John:  With  exceptional  beauty — I'm 
afraid  I'm  going  to  kiss  you.    Now. 

(They  kiss.) 
(Ten  minutes  pass.) 

[99] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Priscilla:  Stop  smiling  in  that  inane  way. 

John:  I  just  happened  to  think  of  some- 
thing awfully  funny.  You  know  the  reason 
why  I  came  over  here  tonight? 

Priscilla:  To  see  me.  I  wondered  wh> 
you  hadn't  come  months  ago. 

John:  No.  It's  really  awfully  funny — but 
I  came  here  tonight  because  Miles  Standish 
made  me  promise  this  morning  to  ask  you  to 
marry  him.  Miles  is  an  awfully  good  tgg, 
really  Priscilla. 

Priscilla:  Speak  for  yourself,  John. 
(They  kiss.) 

Priscilla:  Again. 

John:  Again — and  again.    Oh  Lord,  I'm 

gone. 

(An  hour  later  JOHN  leaves.  As  the  door 
closes  behind  him  PRISCILLA  sinks  back 
into  her  chair  before  the  fireplace;  an 
hour  passes,  and  she  does  not  wove;  her 
aunt  returns  from  the  Bradfords'  and 
after  a  few  ineffectual  attempts  at  conver- 
sation goes  to  bed  alone;  the  candles  gut- 
ter, flicker,  and  die  out;  the  room  is  filled 

[lOO] 


A    QUIET    EVENING    IN    PLYMOUTH 

"Priscilla:  Speak  for  yourself,  John. 
(They  kiss.) 
Priscilla:  Again. 

John:  Again — and  again.    Oh,  Lord,  I'm  gone! 
(An  hour  later  John  leaves.)" 


Courtship  of  Miles  Standish 

with  moonlight,  softly  stealing  through 
the  silken  skein  of  sacred  silence.  Once 
more  the  clock  chimes  forth  the  hour — 
the  hour  of  fluted  peace,  of  dead  desire 
and  epic  love.  Oh  not  for  aye,  Endym- 
ion,  mayst  thou  unfold  the  purple  pan- 
oply of  priceless  years.  She  sleeps — 
PriscILLA  sleeps — and  down  the  palimp- 
sest of  age-old  passion  the  lyres  of  night 
breathe  forth  their  poignant  praise.  She 
sleeps — eternal  Helen — in  the  moonlight 
of  a  thousand  years;  immortal  symbol  of 
immortal  aeons,  flower  of  the  gods  trans- 
planted  on  a  foreign  shore,  infinitely  rare, 
infinitely  erotic.*) 


•For  the  further  adventures  of  Priscilla,  see  F.  Scott  Fitz- 
gerald's stories  in  the  "Girl  With  the  Yellow  Hair"  series, 
notably  "This  Side  of  Paradise,"  "The  Offshore  Pirate,"  "The 
Ice  Palace,"  "Head  and  Shoulders,"  "Bernice  Bobs  Her  Hair," 
"Benediction"  and  "The  Beautiful  and  Damned." 


[103] 


Chapter  Five 

The  spirit  of  '75-     Letters  of  a 
Minute  Man. 

In  the  Manner  of  Ring  Lardner 


CHAPTER  FIVE 
THE    SPIRIT   OF    '75 
Letters  of  a  Minute  Man 

In  the  Manner  of  Ring  Lardner 

Friend  Ethen — 

Well  Ethen  you  will  be  surprised  O.  K.  to 
hear  I  &  the  wife  took  a  little  trip  down  to 
Boston  last  wk.  to  a  T.  party  &  I  guess  you 
are  thinking  we  will  be  getting  the  swelt  hed 
over  being  ast  to  a  T.  party.    In  Boston. 

Well  Ethen  if  you  think  that  why  you  will 
be  a  100  mi.  ofifen  the  track  because  Ethen 
I  and  Prudence  aint  the  kind  that  gets  a  swelt 
hed  over  being  ast  any  wares  like  some  of  are 
naybers  up  here  when  they  are  ast  any  wares 
so  you  see  Ethen  even  if  we  had  been  ast  any 
wares  we  wouldnt  of  had  no  swelt  hed.  On 
acct  of  being  ast  any  wares. 

Well  last  Thurs.  I  and  Prudence  drove  old 

[107] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Bessy  down  to  Boston  Bessy  is  are  horse  see 
Ethen  which  is  about  13  mi.  from  here  Boston 
I  mean  Ethen  as  the  crow  flys  only  no  crow 
would  ever  fly  to  Boston  if  he  could  help  it 
because  all  the  crows  that  ever  flew  to  Boston 
was  shot  by  them  lousie  taverin  keepers  to 
make  meals  out  of  Ethen  I  never  tast  it 
nothing  so  rotten  in  my  life  as  the  meals  they 
give  us  there  &  the  priceis  would  knock  your 
I  out.  3  shillings  for  a  peace  of  stake  about 
as  big  as  your  I,  and  4  pence  for  a  cup  of  coffy. 
The  streets  aint  the  only  thing  about  Boston 
thats  crook  it.  Them  taverin  keepers  is  crook 
it  to  I  mean  see  Ethen. 

After  supper  I  &  her  was  walking  a  round 
giving  the  town  the  double  O  when  we  seen 
that  Fanny  Ewell  Hall  was  all  lit  up  like 
Charley  Davis  on  Sat.  night  &  I  says  to  Pru- 
dence lets  go  inside  I  think  its  free  and  she 
says  I  bet  you  knowed  it  was  free  al  right  be- 
for  you  ast  me  &  sure  enough  it  was  free  only 
I  hadnt  knoAved  it  before  only  I  guess  that 
Prudence  knows  that  when  I  say  a  thing  it  is 
generally  O.  K.    Well  Fanny  Ewell  Hall  was 

[108] 


ED    AND   THE    WIFE    GIVE    BOSTON    THE    DOtTBLE-O 

"  '&  he  says  maddam  do  you  want  T.  &  slavery  and 
she  says  no,  coffy  &  a  hot  dog  just  kidding  him  see 
Ethen.  &  he  says  maddam  no  T.  shall  ever  land  &  she 
says  no  but  my  husbend  will  in  a  bout  i  min.  and  I 
was  just  going  to  plank  him  i '" 


The  Spirit  of  *75 

pack  jam  full  of  people  &  we  couldnt  see 
nothing  because  there  was  a  cockide  stiff 
standing  right  in  front  of  us  &  jumping  up 
&  down  &  yelling  No  T.  No  T.  at  the  top  of 
his  lunges  &  Prudence  says  well  why  dont  you 
take  coffy  or  milk  &  for  Gods  sake  stay  offen 
my  foot  &  he  turns  to  her  &  says  maddam  do 
you  want  T.  &  slavery  &  she  says  no  coffy  &  a 
hot  dog  just  kidding  him  see  Ethen  &  he  says 
maddam  no  T.  shall  ever  land  &  she  says  no 
but  my  husbend  will  in  a  bout  i  min.  &  I  was 
just  going  to  plank  him  i  when  the  door  be- 
hint  us  bust  open  &  a  lot  of  indyans  come  in 
yelling  every  body  down  to  Grifins  worf  there 
is  going  to  be  a  T.  party  only  Ethen  they 
wasnt  indyans  at  all  but  jest  wite  men  drest 
up  to  look  like  indyans  &  I  says  to  a  f  ello  those 
aint  indyans  &  he  say  no  how  did  you  guess  it 
&  I  says  because  I  have  seen  real  indyans 
many  a  time  &  he  says  to  a  nother  fello  say 
Bill  here  is  a  man  who  says  them  aint  real  in- 
dyans &  the  other  fello  says  gosh  I  dont  be- 
lieve it  &  they  laffed  only  the  laff  was  on  them 
Ethen  because  they  wasnt  real  indyans  &  that 

[ml 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

is  only  tipical  of  how  you  cant  tell  these  Bos- 
ton swelt  heds  nothing  &  I  guess  if  they  had 
ever  seen  a  real  indyan  they  would  of  known 
better  than  to  laflf.  Well  I  and  Prudence  fol- 
lered  the  crowd  down  to  Grifins  worf  &  them 
indyans  which  was  only  wite  men  drest  up 
dumb  onto  a  ship  there  &  begun  throwing 
the  cargo  into  Boston  barber  &  I  says  to  a  f  ello 
what  is  in  them  boxes  &  he  says  T.  &  I  says 
well  why  are  they  throwing  it  away  &  he  says 
because  they  do  not  want  to  pay  the  tacks 
which  is  about  as  sensable  Ethen  if  I  was  to 
rite  a  lot  of  letters  &  then  as  fast  as  I  rote  i  I 
would  tare  it  up  because  I  did  not  want  to  pay 
for  a  stamp.  Well  I  says  somebody  ought  to 
catch  he — 11  for  this  &  he  says  are  you  a  torie 
&  I  seen  he  was  trying  to  kid  me  &  I  says  no  I 
am  a  congregationalis  &  a  loyal  subject  of 
king  Geo.  Rex  &  he  says  o  I  thought  you  was 
a  torie  &  a  lot  of  f  ellos  who  was  with  him  give 
him  the  lafif  because  he  hadnt  been  abel  to  kid 
me.  Well  after  a  whiles  he  says  the  indyans 
seem  to  be  about  threw  &  I  says  yes  only  they 
aint  indyans  &  the  lafif  was  on  him  again  &  he 

[112] 


THE    BOSTON    TEA    PARTY 

"'&  I  says  to  the  wife  those  ain't  real  indyans  & 
she  says  oh  aint  they  I  suppose  if  somebody  was  to 
paint  stripes  on  a  cow  you  would  say  that  aint  no  tiger 
neither  &  I  would  love  to  been  you  one  right  now  with 
a  Tommy  Hawk  well  Ethen  that's  the  way  it  goes.'" 


The  Spirit  of  '75 

seen  it  wasnt  no  use  to  try  &  kid  me  &  Pru- 
dence says  come  on  lets  beat  it  &  on  the  way 
home  I  says  I  bet  them  Boston  birds  will  feel 
small  when  they  find  out  that  those  wasnt  in- 
dyans  at  all  &  she  act  it  like  she  was  mad 
about  something  &  says  well  they  cant  blame 
you  for  not  trying  to  tell  them  &  its  a  wonder 
you  didnt  hire  Fanny  Ewell  Hall  while  you 
was  about  it  &  I  says  o  is  it  &  I  might  know 
youd  get  sore  because  I  was  the  ist  to  find  out 
about  the  indyans  being  wite  men  in  disgised 
&  she  says  yes  I  suppose  if  somebody  was  to 
paint  stripes  on  a  cow  you  would  make  a 
speach  about  it  &  say  that  you  had  discovered 
that  it  wasnt  no  tiger  &  I  wish  I  had  been  i  of 
them  indyans  tonight  because  I  would  of 
loved  to  of  beened  you  with  a  Tommy  Hawk 
&  I  says  o  you  would  would  you  &  she  seen  it 
wasnt  no  use  to  argue  with  me  &  anyway 
Ethen  nobody  would  be  fool  enough  to  paint 
stripes  on  a  cow  unless  maybe  they  was  born 
in  Boston.  Well  Ethen  thats  the  way  it  goes 
&  when  you  do  put  one  over  on  the  wife  they 

["S] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

want  to  hit  you  with  a  Tommy  Hawk  with 
best  rgds.  Ed. 

Friend  Ethen — 

No  matter  what  a  married  man  does  in  this 
world  he  gets  in  wrong  &  I  suppose  if  I  was 
to  die  tonight  Prudence  would  bawl  me  out 
for  not  having  let  her  know  I  was  going  to  do 
it  &  just  because  I  joined  the  minit  men  the 
other  eve.  she  has  been  acting  like  as  if  I  had 
joined  the  Baptis  Church  &  I  bet  you  are  say- 
ing what  in  the  h — 11  is  a  minit  man.  Well 
Ethen  I  will  tell  you.  The  other  night  I  says 
to  Prudence  I  think  I  will  drive  over  to  Lex- 
ington to  get  Bessy  shodd.  Bessy  is  are  horse 
see  Ethen.  Well  she  says  you  will  do  nothing 
of  the  kind  because  all  you  want  to  do  in  Lex- 
ington is  get  a  snoot  ful  &  if  you  think  I  am 
going  to  wate  up  all  night  while  you  get  boiled 
well  you  have  got  another  guess  coming.  She 
says  the  last  time  you  had  Bessy  shodd  the 
naybers  are  talking  about  it  yet  &  I  says  do 
you  mean  because  I  &  Charley  Davis  was 
singing  &  having  a  little  fun  &  she  says  no 

[ii6] 


The  Spirit  of  *75 

because  nobody  wouldnt  call  that  singing  &  do 
you  call  it  a  little  fun  when  you  brought  Bessy 
up  stares  with  you  to  show  me  how  well  she 
had  been  shodd  at  3  A.  M.  in  the  morning  an- 
swer me  that  which  is  only  her  way  of  exager- 
ating  things  Ethen  because  we  didnt  bring 
Bessy  only  as  far  as  the  stares  &  I  only  did  it 
because  Charley  had  been  drinking  a  little  to 
much  &  I  didnt  want  to  iritate  him  because 
the  way  to  handel  drunks  is  to  not  iritate  them 
they  are  only  worse  only  you  cant  tell  a  woman 
that  &  they  think  the  way  to  handel  drunks  is 
to  look  him  in  the  eye  &  say  arent  you  ashamed 
of  yourselves  which  only  iritates  him  the 
moar.  Well  I  says  I  am  not  going  to  half  no 
horse  of  mine  going  a  round  ^  shodd  al  the 
time  &  Prudence  says  well  I  am  not  going  to 
half  no  husband  of  mine  going  a  round  Yz 
shot  al  the  time  &  I  says  I  will  not  go  near 
Charley  Davis  this  time  because  I  have  lernt 
my  lesson  &  she  says  al  right  if  you  will  prom- 
ise to  not  go  near  Charley  Davis  you  can  go 
&  when  I  got  to  Lexington  I  thought  I  would 
stop  in  the  taverin  a  min.  just  to  say  hulloh  to 

[M7] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  ^History 

the  boys  because  if  a  fello  doesnt  stop  in  the 
taverin  to  say  hulloh  to  the  boys  who  are  just 
as  good  as  he  is  they  are  lible  to  say  he  has  a 
swelt  hed  &  is  to  proud  to  stop  in  the  taverin 
to  say  hulloh  to  the  boys.  Who  are  just  as 
good  as  he  is.  Well  I  didnt  have  any  i  dear 
that  Charley  Davis  would  be  there  because  I 
had  told  Prudence  I  wasnt  going  to  go  near 
him  &  just  because  I  said  that  I  cant  be  expect 
it  to  sneek  into  toun  like  as  if  I  was  a  convick 
can  I  Ethen.  Well  the  taverin  was  crowd  it 
&  they  had  all  got  a  good  start  &  the  long  & 
the  short  of  it  was  that  the  ist  person  I  seen 
was  Charley  Davis  &  he  says  hulloh  there  pink 
whiskers  you  are  just  in  time  to  join  the  minit 
men  which  is  only  a  nicked  name  he  has  for 
me  because  my  whiskers  are  red  brown.  No 
I  says  I  cannot  join  anything  tonight  fellos 
because  I  must  go  right  back  home  &  he  says 
if  you  dont  join  the  minit  men  now  some  day 
you  wont  have  no  home  to  go  home  to  &  I 
says  what  do  you  mean  I  wont  have  no  home 
to  go  home  to  &  he  says  because  the  Brittish 
are  going  to  burn  down  all  the  homes  of  we 

[ii8] 


ED  JOINS  THE   MINUTE   MEN 

"  '&  after  we  had  drank  about  4  or  5  he  says  Hsten 
&  I  says  what  &  he  says  listen  &  I  says  what  &  he  says 
do  you  know  my  wife  &  I  says  no  &  he  says  wliat  did 
yon  say  &  I  says  when  &  ho  says  you  have  insult  it 
my  wife  &  he  begun  to  cry.* " 


The  Spirit  of  *75 

farmers  because  we  will  not  sell  them  any 
food  but  first  you  had  better  have  a  drink. 
Well  Ethen  a  fello  dont  like  to  be  a  sissey 
about  taking  i  drink  docs  he  &  then  I  says 
now  fellos  1  must  go  home  &  then  a  couple  of 
more  fellos  come  in  &  they  said  Ed  you  wont 
go  home  till  we  have  brought  you  a  drink  & 
elect  it  you  to  the  minit  men  will  you  &  I  said 
no  but  I  must  go  home  right  after  that.  Well 
then  we  got  to  singing  &  we  was  going  pretty 
good  &  after  a  while  I  said  now  fellos  I  must 
go  home  &  Charley  Davis  says  to  me  Ed  be- 
fore you  go  I  want  to  have  you  shake  hands 
with  my  friend  Tom  Duffy  who  is  here  from 
Boston  &  he  will  tell  you  all  about  the  minit 
men  &  you  can  join  tonight  but  look  out  or  he 
will  drink  you  under  the  tabel  because  he  is 
the  worst  fish  in  Boston  &  I  says  sure  only  I 
have  got  to  be  going  home  soon  because  you 
remember  what  hapend  last  time  &  I  would 
like  to  see  any  body  from  Boston  drink  me 
under  the  tabel  &  bet.  you  &  I  Ethen  if  that 
fellow  is  a  fish  then  my  grandmother  is  the 
prince  of  whales  &  let  me  tell  you  what  hap- 

[I2I] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

end.  After  we  had  drank  about  4  or  5  I  seen 
he  was  getting  sort  of  wite  &  I  says  well  Bos- 
ton lets  settle  down  now  to  some  good  steddy 
drinking  &  he  says  listen  &  I  says  what  &  he 
says  listen  &  I  says  what  &  he  says  do  you  know 
my  wife  &  I  says  no  &  he  says  listen  &  I  says 
what  &  he  says  shes  the  best  little  woman  in 
the  world  &  I  says  sure  &  he  says  what  did  you 
say  &  I  says  when  &  he  says  you  have  insult  it 
my  wife  the  best  little  woman  in  the  world  & 
he  begun  to  cry  &  we  had  only  had  a  bout  i 
qt  &  wouldnt  that  knock  you  for  a  cockide 
gool  Ethen,  only  I  guess  you  arent  surprised 
knowing  how  much  I  can  holt  without  feeling 
any  affects.  Well  I  was  feeling  pretty  good 
on  acct.  of  drinking  the  pride  of  Boston  under 
the  tabel  &  not  feeling  any  affects  only  I  was 
feeling  good  like  a  fello  naturely  feels  &  the 
fellos  kind  of  made  a  lot  of  fuss  on  acct.  me 
drinking  him  under  the  tabel  so  I  couldnt  very 
well  of  gone  home  then  &  after  a  while  Char- 
ley Davis  made  a  speach  &  well  comed  me 
into  the  minit  men  &  so  I  am  a  minit  man 
Ethen  but  I  cant  exackly  explain  it  to  you 

[122] 


The  Spirit  of  *7S 

until  I  see  Charley  again  because  he  didnt 
make  it  very  clear  that  night.  Well  after  a 
while  we  woke  the  Boston  fish  up  &  we  all 
went  home  &  I  was  feeling  pretty  good  on 
acct.  it  being  such  a  nice  night  &  all  the  stars 
being  out  &  etc.  &  when  I  got  home  I  said 
Prudence  guess  what  hapend  &  she  says  I  can 
guess  &  I  says  Prudence  I  have  been  elect  it 
a  minit  man  &  she  says  well  go  on  up  stares 
&  sleep  it  off  &  I  says  sleep  what  off  &  she 
says  stop  talking  so  loud  do  you  want  the  nay- 
bers  to  wake  up  &  I  says  whos  talking  loud  & 
she  says  o  go  to  bed  &  I  says  I  am  talking  in 
conversational  tones  &  she  says  well  you  must 
be  conversing  with  somebody  in  Boston  &  I 
says  o  you  mean  that  little  blond  on  Beecon 
St.  &  Ethen  she  went  a  1,000,000  mi.  up  in  the 
air  &  I  seen  it  wasnt  no  use  to  try  &  tell  her 
that  the  reason  I  was  feeling  good  was  on 
acct.  having  drank  a  Boston  swelt  hed  to  sleep 
without  feeling  any  affects  &  I  bet  the  next 
time  I  get  a  chanct  I  am  going  to  get  snooted 
right  because  a  fello  gets  blamed  just  as  much 
if  he  doesnt  feel   the   affects   as   if  he  was 

[123] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

brought  home  in  a  stuper  &  I  was  just  kidding 
her  about  that  blond  on  Beecon  St.  Some 
women  dont  know  when  they  are  well  off 
Ethen  &  I  bet  that  guy  from  Bostons  Tom 
Duffy  I  mean  wife  ^yishes  she  was  in  Pru- 
dences shoes  instead  of  her  having  married  a 
man  what  cant  holt  no  more  than  a  qt.  with- 
out being  brought  home  in  a  stuper.     Best 

reds. 
^  Ed. 

Friend  Ethen — 

Well  Ethen  this  is  a  funny  world  &  when 
I  joined  the  minit  men  last  mo.  how  was  I  to 
know  that  they  called  them  minit  men  because 
they  was  lible  to  get  shot  any  minit.  &  here  I 
am  riteing  to  you  in  a  tent  outside  Boston  & 
any  minit  a  canon  ball  is  lible  to  knock  me  for 
a  continental  loop  &  my  house  has  been  burnt 
&  Prudence  is  up  in  Conk  Cord  with  her  sis- 
ter the  one  who  married  that  short  skate  dum 
bell  Collins  who  has  owed  me  2  lbs.  for  a 
yr.  &  y2  well  Ethen  it  never  ranes  but  it  pores 
&  you  can  be  glad  you  are  liveing  in  a  nice 
quiet  place  like  Philly. 

[124] 


<^::> 


THE   MIDNIGHT  RIDE   OF   PAUL   REVEAR 

"  '&  he  says  I  am  Paul  Revear  &  I  says  well  this  is 
a  h — 11  of  a  time  to  be  wakcing  a  pcacciful  man  out  of 
their  bed  &  he  says  the  Brittish  are  comcing  &  I  says 
o  are  they '  " 


The  Spirit  of  *75 

Well  the  other  night  I  and  Prudence  was 
sound  asleep  when  I  heard  some  body  bang 
ing  at  the  f  rt.  door  &  I  stuck,  my  head  out  the 
up  stares  window  &  I  says  who  are  you  &  he 
says  I  am  Paul  Revear  &  I  says  well  this  is  a 
h — 11  of  a  time  to  be  wakeing  a  peaceiful  man 
out  of  their  bed  what  do  you  want  &  he  says 
the  Brittish  are  comeing  &  I  says  o  are  they 
well  this  is  the  19  of  April  not  the  ist  &  I  was 
going  down  stares  to  plank  him  i  but  he  had 
rode  away  tow  wards  Lexington  before  I  had 
a  chanct  &  as  it  turned  out  after  words  the 
joke  was  on  me  O.  K.  Well  who  is  it  says 
Prudence  Charley  Davis  again  because  you 
might  as  well  come  back  to  bed  if  it  is  &  I  says 
no  it  was  some  Boston  smart  alick  trying  to 
be  funny  &  I  guess  they  are  soar  down  there 
on  acct.  what  hapened  to  their  prize  fish 
up  here  last  mo.  &  are  trying  to  get  even 
do  you  know  a  Paul  Revear  &  she  says 
yes  there  was  a  boy  at  school  named  Paul 
Revear  who  was  crazy  about  me  was  he 
dark  well  Ethen  if  all  the  fellos  she  says 
has    been    crazy   about   her   was    layed    end 

[127] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

to  end  they  would  circum  navygate  the  globe 
twicet  &  I  says  no  he  was  yello  &  that  had 
her  stopt  so  we  went  back  to  sleep  only  I 
couldn't  help  laffing  over  the  way  I  had  slipt 
it  across.  About  Revear  being  yello.  Well 
along  a  bout  A.  M.  there  was  a  lot  of  gun 
firing  tow  wards  Lexington  &  Prudence 
grabed  me  &  says  whats  the  shooting  for  &  I 
says  probably  that  fello  Revear  who  was  so 
crazy  a  bout  you  has  got  funny  oncet  to  oft  ten 
&  it  will  teach  them  Boston  doodes  a  lesson. 
Well  Ethen  I  was  wrong  for  oncet  &  the  firing 
kept  getting  worse  &  I  hitcht  up  old  Bessy  & 
drove  over  to  Lexington  Bessy  is  are  horse  & 
Ethen  there  was  the  h — 11  to  pay  there  because 
the  g — d  d — m  Brittish  redcotes  had  marcht 
lup  from  Boston  &  had  fired  on  the  Lexington 
fellos  &  Charley  Davis  had  been  shot  dead  & 
a  lot  of  the  other  fellos  was  wooned  it  &  they 
said  you  had  better  get  your  wife  to  the  h — 11 
out  of  your  house  because  the  g — d  d — m  Brit- 
tish redcotes  are  coming  back  &  they  will  burn 

everything  along  the  rode  the I  guess 

you  know  what  word  goes  there  Ethen  &  I 

[128] 


The  Spirit  of  *75 

was  so  d — m  mad  at  those  g — d  d — m  Brittish 
redcotes  on  acct.  shooting  Charley  Davis  dead 

that  I  said  give  me  a  gun  &  show  me  the 

who  done  it  &  they  says  no  you  had  better  get 
your  wife  to  a  safe  place  to  go  to  &  then  you 

can  come  back  because  the  will  be 

along  this  way   again   the  .     Well   I 

drove  as  fast  as  I  could  back  to  the  farm  & 
somebody  had  already  told  Prudence  what 
had  hapend  &  as  soon  as  I  drove  into  the  yd. 
she  come  out  with  my  muskit  &  hand  it  it  to 
me  &  says  dont  you  worry  about  me  but  you 
kill  every  d — m  redcote  you  can  see  &  I  says 

the  s  has  killed  Charley  Davis  &  she 

says  I  know  it  &  here  is  all  the  bullits  I  could 
find.  Well  when  I  got  back  to  Lexington  the 
redcotes  was  just  coming  along  &  Ethen  I 
guess  they  wont  forget  that  march  back  to 
Boston  for  a  little  whiles  &  I  guess  I  wont 

either  because  the  s  burnt  down  my 

house  &  barn  &  Prudence  is  gone  to  stay  with 
her  sister  in  Conk  Cord  &  here  I  am  camping 
in  a  tent  with  a  lot  of  other  minit  men  on  the 
out  skirts  of  Boston  &  there  is  a  roomer  a 

[129] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

round  camp  that  to  morrow  we  are  going  to 
move  over  to  Bunker  Hill  which  is  a  good 
name  for  a  Boston  Hill  111  say  &  Ethen  if  yoa 
was  to  of  told  me  a  mo.  ago  that  I  would  be 
fighting  to  get  Boston  away  from  the  Brittish 
I  would  of  planked  you  i  because  they  could 
of  had  Boston  for  all  I  cared.  Well  Ethen  I 
must  go  out  and  drill  some  more  now  &  prob- 
ably we  will  half  to  listen  to  some  Boston  bird 
makeing  a  speach  they  are  great  fellos  for 
speaches  about  down  with  Brittish  tirrany  & 
give  me  liberty  or  give  me  death  but  if  you 
was  to  ast  me  Ethen  I  would  say  give  me 
back  that  house  &  barn  what  those  lousie  red- 
cotes  burnt  &  when  this  excitement  is  all  over 
what  I  want  to  know  is  Ethen  where  do  I  get 
ofT  at. 

Yrs 
Ed. 


[130] 


I 


Chapter  Six 

The  whisky  rebellion. 

In  the  Bedtime  Story  Manner  of  Thornton  W.  Burgess 


CHAPTER  SIX 

THE  WHISKY   REBELLION 

In  the  Bedtime  Story  Manner  of  Thornton  JV, 

Burgess 

"Just  the  day  for  a  Whisky  Rebellion,"  said 
Aunt  Polly  and  off  she  ran,  lippcrty-lipperty- 
lip,  to  get  a  few  shooting  rifles. 

"Oh  goody  goody,"  cried  little  Emily. 
"Now  we  can  all  shoot  at  those  horrid  Rev- 
enue Officers,"  for  the  collectors  of  internal 
revenue  were  far  from  popular  with  these 
kindly  Pennsylvania  folk  and  Aunt  Polly 
Pinkwood  had  often  promised  the  children 
that  if  they  were  good  some  day  they  would 
be  allowed  to  take  a  shot  at  a  Revenue  Officer. 

Soon  she  returned,  bearing  in  her  arms  a 
number  of  bright  shiny  new  guns.  The  chil- 
dren crowded  around  in  glee  and  soon  all 
were    supplied    with    weapons    except    little 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Frank  who  of  course  was  too  young  to  use  a 
gun  and  was  given  a  two-gallon  jug  of  nice, 
old  whisky  to  carry.  Jed  hitched  up  old  Tay- 
lor, the  faithful  farm  horse,  and  as  quick  as 
you  could  say  Jack  Robinson  the  little  ones 
had  piled  into  the  old  carryall.  Round  Mr. 
Sun  was  just  peeping  over  the  Purple  Hills 
when  the  merry  little  party  started  on  its  way, 
singing  and  laughing  at  the  prospect  of  the 
day's  sport. 

"I  bet  I  kill  five  Revenue  Officers,"  said 
little  Edgar. 

*'Ha  Ha  Ha — you  boaster,  you,"  laughed 
Aunt  Polly.  "You  will  be  lucky  if  you  kill 
two,  for  I  fear  they  will  be  hard  to  find  to- 
day." 

"Oh  do  you  think  so,  Aunt  Polly?"  said 
little  Elinor  and  she  began  to  cry,  for  Elinor 
dearly  loved  to  shoot. 

"Hush  dear,"  said  Miss  Pinkwood  with  a 
kindly  pat,  for  she  loved  her  little  charges 
and  it  hurt  her  to  see  them  unhappy.  "I  was 
only  joking.  And  now  children  I  will  tell  you 
a  story." 

[134] 


UTTLE  Elmer's  father's  d.  t.'s  delight  the  children 

"And  what  do  you  suppose  he  saw  ?"  said  Aunt  Polly 
Pinkwood. 

"'Pink  elephants!'  cried  little  Elmer,  whose  father 
had  often  had  delirium  tremens,  greatly  to  the  delight 
of  his  children." 


The  JFJiishy  Rebellion 

"Oh  goody  goody,"  cried  they  all.  "Tell 
us  a  true  story." 

"All  right,"  said  Aunt  Polly.  "I  shall  tell 
you  a  true  story,"  and  she  began. 

"Once  there  was  a  brave  handsome  man — " 

"Mr.  Welsbach,"  cried  the  children  with 
one  voice,  for  it  was  well  known  in  the  neigh- 
borhood that  Aunt  Polly  had  long  been  sweet 
on  Julius  Welsbach,  the  popular  superintend- 
ent of  the  Sabbath  School  and  the  best  whisky 
maker  for  miles  around. 

"Hush  children,"  said  Aunt  Polly  blushing 
in  vexation.  "Of  course  not.  And  if  you 
interrupt  me  I  shall  not  tell  my  story  at  all." 
But  she  was  not  really  angry. 

"And  one  day  this  brave  handsome  man 
was  out  making  whisky  and  he  had  just  sam- 
pled some  when  he  looked  up  and  what  do 
you  suppose  he  saw?" 

"Snakes,"  cried  little  Elmer  whose  father 
had  often  had  delirium  tremens,  greatly  to  the 
delight  of  his  children. 

"No,  Elmer,"  said  Miss  Pinkwood,  "not 
snakes." 

[137] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

"Pink  lizards,"  cried  little  Esther,  Elmer's 
sister. 

''No,"  said  Aunt  Polly,  with  a  hearty 
laugh,  "he  saw  a — stranger.  And  what  do 
you  suppose  the  stranger  had?" 

"A  snoot  full,"  chorused  the  Schultz  twins. 
"He  was  pie-eyed." 

"No,"  replied  Miss  Pinkwood  laughing 
merrily.  "It  was  before  noon.  Guess  again 
children.    What  did  the  stranger  have?" 

"Blind  staggers,"  suggested  little  Faith 
whose  mother  had  recently  been  adjudged 
insane. 

"Come  children,"  replied  Aunt  Polly. 
"You  are  not  very  wide  awake  this  morning. 
The  stranger  had  a  gun.  And  when  the  brave 
handsome  man  offered  the  stranger  a  drink 
what  do  you  suppose  the  stranger  said?" 

"I  know,"  cried  little  Prudence  eagerly. 
"He  said,  'Why  yes  I  don't  care  if  I  do.' 
That's  what  they  all  say." 

"No,  Prudence,"  replied  Miss  Pinkwood. 
"The  stranger  refused  a  drink." 

"Oh  come  now.  Aunt  Polly,"  chorused  the 

[138] 


The  IFJiisky  Rebellion 

boys  and  girls.  "You  said  you  were  going  to 
tell  us  a  true  story."  And  their  little  faces 
fell. 

"Children,"  said  Miss  Polly,  "the  stranger 
refused  the  drink  because  he  was  a  Revenue 
Officer.  And  he  pointed  his  gun  at  the  brave 
handsome  man  and  said  he  would  have  to  go 
to  jail  because  he  had  not  paid  the  tax  on  his 
whisky.  And  the  brave  handsome  man  would 
have  had  to  have  gone  to  jail,  too;  but  for- 
tunately his  brother  came  up  just  at  the  right 
time  and — " 

"Shot  the  Revenuer  dead,"  cried  the  chil- 
dren in  glee. 

"Yes  children,"  said  Miss  Polly.  "He  shot 
the  Revenue  Officer  dead." 

"Oh  goody  goody,"  cried  all.  "Now  tell 
us  another  story.  Tell  us  about  the  time  your 
father  killed  a  Revenue  Officer  with  an  ax." 

"Oh  you  don't  want  to  hear  that  again,  do 
you  children?"  said  Aunt  Polly. 

"Oh  yes — yes — please,"  they  cried,  and 
Aunt  Polly  was  just  going  to  begin  when  Jed 
the  driver  stopped  his  horses  and  said: 

[139] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

''This  hilltop  is  as  good  a  place  to  shoot 
from  as  I  know  of,  Miss  Pinkwood.  You  can 
see  both  roads,  and  nobody  can  see  you." 

"Thank  you,  Jed,"  said  Aunt  Polly  giving 
him  a  kindly  smile,  and  without  more  ado  the 
children  clambered  out  of  the  carryall  and 
filled  their  guns  with  powder  and  bullets. 

"I  get  first  shot,"  proudly  announced  Rob- 
ert, the  oldest  boy,  and  somewhat  of  a  bully. 

"Robert!"  said  Aunt  Polly  severely,  and 
she  looked  almost  ready  to  cry,  for  Aunt  Polly 
had  tried  hard  to  teach  the  boys  to  be  true 
knights  of  chivalry  and  it  hurt  her  to  have 
Robert  wish  to  shoot  a  Revenue  Officer  before 
the  girls  had  had  a  chance.  Robert  had  not 
meant  to  hurt  Aunt  Polly's  feelings  but  had 
only  been  thoughtless,  and  soon  all  was  sun- 
shine again  as  little  Ellen  the  youngest  made 
ready  to  fire  the  first  shot. 

The  children  waited  patiently  and  soon 
they  were  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  a  Revenue 
Officer  riding  on  horseback  in  the  distant 
valley,  as  pretty  a  target  as  one  could  wish. 

"Now  do  be  careful,  dear,"  whispered  Miss 

[140] 


TEACHING   THE    YOUNG    IDEA    HOW    TO    SHOOT 

"But  little  Ellon  did  not  miss. 

"'BauK!'  went  her  gun,  and  the  merry  little  Breezes 
echoed  back  and  forth,  'She  got  him  !  She  got  him !' 
Sure  enough,  when  old  Mr.  Smoke  cleared  away,  there 
was  a  nice  dead   Revenue   Oflker   lying   in   tiie   road." 


The  Whisky  Rebellion 

Pinkwood,  "for  if  you  miss,  he  may  take 
alarm  and  be  off."  But  little  Ellen  did  not 
miss.  "Bang"  went  her  gun  and  the  little 
Merry  Breezes  echoed  back  and  forth,  "She 
got  him.  She  got  him",  and  old  Mother  West 
Wind  smiled  down  at  the  happy  sport.  Sure 
enough,  when  old  Mr.  Smoke  had  cleared 
away  there  was  a  nice  dead  Revenue  Officer 
lying  in  the  road.  "Well  done,  Ellen,"  said 
Miss  Pinkwood,  patting  her  little  charge  af- 
fectionately which  caused  the  happy  girl  to 
coo  with  childish  delight. 

Mary  had  next  shot  and  soon  all  were 
popping  away  in  great  glee.  All  the  merry 
wood  folk  gathered  near  to  watch  the  children 
at  their  sport.  There  was  Johnny  Chuck  and 
Reddy  Fox  and  Jimmy  Skunk  and  Bobby 
Coon  and  oh  everybody. 

Soon  round  Mr.  Sun  was  high  in  the  Blue 
Sky  and  the  children  began  to  tire  somewhat 
of  their  sport.  "I'm  as  hungry  as  a  bear," 
said  little  Dick.  "Em  as  hungry  as  two 
bears,"  said  Emily.  "Ha  Ha  Ha,"  laughed 
Miss  Pinkwood,  "I  know  what  will  fix  that," 

[■43] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

and  soon  she  had  spread  out  a  delicious  repast. 

*'Now  children,"  said  Miss  Pinkwood 
when  all  had  washed  their  faces  and  hands, 
"while  you  were  busy  washing  I  prepared  a 
surprise  for  you,"  and  from  a  large  jug,  be- 
fore their  delighted  gaze,  she  poured  out — 
what  do  you  think?  "Bronxes,"  cried  little 
Harriet.  "Oh  goody  goody."  And  sure 
e  ough  Aunt  Polly  had  prepared  a  jug  of 
delicious  Bronx  cocktails  which  all  pro- 
nounced excellent. 

And  after  that  there  were  sandwiches  and 
olives  and  pie  and  good  three  year  old  whisky, 
too. 

"That's  awfully  smooth  rye,  Aunt  Polly," 
said  little  Prudence  smacking  her  two  red 
lips.    "I  think  I'll  have  another  shot." 

"No  dear,"  said  Miss  Pinkwood,  pleased 
by  the  compliment,  but  firm  withal.  "Not 
now.  Perhaps  on  the  way  home,  if  there  is 
any  left,"  for  Aunt  Polly  knew  that  too  much 
alcohol  in  the  middle  of  the  day  is  bad  for 
growing  children,  and  she  had  seen  many  a 

[144] 


HOW    THE    DEAR    CHILDREN    LOVE    THEIR    LIQUOR  ! 

"And  sure  enough  Aunt  Polly  had  prepared  a  jug 
of  delicious  Bronx  cocktails,  which  all  pronounced 
excellent. 

"  'That's  awfully  smooth  stuff,'  said  little  Prudence, 
smacking  her  two  red  lips.  'I  think  1 11  have  another 
shot.' " 


The  JVhisky  Rebellion 

promising  child  spoiled  by  over-indulgent 
parents. 

After  lunch  those  children  who  could  stand 
helped  Aunt  Polly  to  clear  away  the  dishes 
and  then  all  went  sound  asleep,  as  is  the  cus- 
tom in  Pennsylvania. 

When  they  awoke  round  Mr.  Sun  was  just 
sinking  behind  the  Purple  Hills  and  so,  after 
taking  a  few  more  scattered  shots  at  Revenue 
Officers,  they  piled  once  more  into  the  carry- 
all and  drove  back  to  town.  And  as  they 
passed  Mrs.  Oliphant's  house  (Aunt  Polly's 
sister)  Aunt  Flo  Oliphant  came  out  on  the 
porch  and  waved  her  handkerchief  at  the 
merry  party. 

"Let's  give  her  a  cheer,"  said  Fred. 

"Agreed,"  cried  they  all,  and  so  twelve  lit- 
tle throats  united  in  three  lusty  "huzzahs" 
which  made  Auntie  Flo  very  happy  you  may 
be  sure. 

And  as  they  drove  up  before  the  Pink- 
woods'  modest  home  twelve  tired  but  happy 
children  with  one  accord  voted  the  Whisky 
Rebellion  capital  fun  and  Aunt  Polly  a  brick. 

['47] 


Chapter  Seven 

How  LOVE  CAME  to  General  Grant. 

In  the  Manner  of  Harold  Bell  fVright 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

HOW  LOVE  CAME  TO  GENERAL 

GRANT 

In  the  Manner  of  Harold  Bell  Wright 

On  a  brisk  winter  evening  in  the  winter  of 
1864  the  palatial  Fifth  Avenue  "palace"  of 
Cornelius  van  der  Grifif  was  brilliantly 
lighted  with  many  brilliant  lights.  Outside 
the  imposing  front  entrance  a  small  group  of 
pedestrians  had  gathered  to  gape  enviously 
at  the  invited  guests  of  the  "four  hundred" 
who  were  beginning  to  arrive  in  elegant 
equipages,  expensive  ball-dresses  and  fashion- 
able "swallowtails". 

"Hully  gee  1"  exclaimed  little  Frank,  a 
crippled  newsboy  who  was  the  only  support 
of  an  aged  mother,  as  a  particularly  sumptuous 
carriage  drove  up  and  a  stylishly  dressed  lady 
of  fifty-five  or  sixty  stepped  out  accompanied 

[15'] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

by  a  haughty  society  girl  and  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman in  clerical  dress.  It  was  Mrs.  Rhine- 
lander,  a  social  leader,  and  her  daughter 
Geraldine,  together  with  the  Rev.  Dr.  Ged- 
ney,  pastor  of  an  exclusive  Fifth  Avenue 
church. 

"What  common  looking  people,"  said  Mrs. 
Rhinelander,  surveying  the  crowd  aristocrati- 
cally with  her  lorgnette. 

*Tes,  aren't  they?"  replied  the  clergyman 
with  a  condescending  glance  which  ill  befit 
his  clerical  garb. 

"I'm  glad  you  don't  have  people  like  that 
dans  voire  eglise,  Dr.  Gedney,"  said  young 
Geraldine,  who  thought  it  was  "smart"  to 
display  her  proficiency  in  the  stylish  French 
tongue.  At  this  moment  the  door  of  the  van 
der  Griff  residence  was  opened  for  them  by 
an  imposing  footman  in  scarlet  livery  and 
they  passed  into  the  abode  of  the  "elect". 

"Hully  gee!"  repeated  little  Frank. 

"What's  going  on  to-night?"  asked  a  new- 
comer. 

"Gee — don't  youse  know?"  answered  the 

[152] 


Ho%v  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

newsboy.  "Dis  is  de  van  dcr  Griffs'  and  to- 
night dcy  arc  giving  a  swell  dinner  for  Gen- 
eral Grant.  Dat  lady  wot  just  went  in  was 
old  Mrs.  Rhinclander.  I  seen  her  pitcher  in 
de  last  Harper's  Weekly  and  derc  was  a  story 
in  de  paper  dis  morning  dat  her  daughter 
Geraldinc  was  going  to  marry  de  General." 

"That  isn't  so,"  broke  in  another.  "It  was 
just  a  rumor." 

"Well,  anyway,"  said  Frank,  "I  wisht  de 
■General  would  hurry  up  and  come — it's  get- 
ting cold  enough  to  freeze  the  tail  off  a  brass 
monkey."  The  onlookers  laughed  merrily  at 
his  humorous  reference  to  the  frigid  tempera- 
ture, although  many  cast  sympathetic  looks 
at  his  thin  threadbare  garments  and  registered 
a  kindly  thought  for  this  brave  boy  who  so 
philosophically  accepted  the  buffets  of  fate. 

"I  bet  this  is  him  now,"  cried  Frank,  and 
all  waited  expectantly  as  a  vehicle  drove  up. 
The  cabman  jumped  off  his  box  and  held  the 
carriage  door  open. 

"Here  you  arc,  Miss  Flowers,"  he  said, 
touching  his  hat  respectfully. 

[153] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

A  silver  peal  of  rippling  laughter  sounded 
from  the  interior  of  the  carriage. 

'•Why  Jerry,"  came  in  velvet  tones  ad- 
dressed to  the  coachman,  "You  mustn't  be  so 
formal  just  because  I  have  come  to  New  York 
to  live.  Call  me  'Miss  Ella,'  of  course,  just 
like  you  did  when  we  lived  out  in  Kansas," 
and  with  these  words  Miss  Ella  Flowers,  for 
it  was  she,  stepped  out  of  the  carriage. 

A  hush  fell  on  the  crowd  as  they  caught 
sight  of  her  face — a  hush  of  silent  tribute  to 
the  clear  sweet  womanhood  of  that  pure  coun- 
tenance. A  young  man  on  the  edge  of  the 
crowd  who  was  on  the  verge  of  becoming  a 
drunkard  burst  into  tears  and  walked  rapidly 
away  to  join  the  nearest  church.  A  pr-st— te 
who  had  been  plying  her  nefarious  trade  on 
the  avenue,  sank  to  her  knees  to  pray  for 
strength  to  go  back  to  her  aged  parents  on  the 
farm.  Another  young  man,  catching  sight  of 
Ella's  pure  face,  vowed  to  write  home  to  his 
old  mother  and  send  her  the  money  he  had 
been  expending  in  the  city  on  drinks  and 
dissipation. 

[IS4] 


MISS    ELLA    FLOWERS    ARRIVES    AT    THE    PARTY 

"A  hush  fell  on  the  crowd— a  hush  of  silent  tribute 
to  the  clear,  sweet  womanhood  of  that  pure  countenance. 
And  well  might  these  city  people  be  affected  by  the 
sweet,  noble  virtue  which  shone  forth  so  radiantly  in 
this  Kansas  girl's  countenance." 


How  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

And  well  might  these  city  people  be  affect- 
ed by  the  glimpse  of  the  sweet  noble  virtue 
which  shone  forth  so  radiantly  in  this  Kansas 
girl's  countenance.    Although  born  in  Jersey 
City,  Ella  had  moved  with  her  parents  to  the 
west  at  an  early  age  and  she  had  grown  up  in 
the  open  country  where  a  man's  a  man  and 
women  lead  clean  sweet  womanly  lives.    Out 
in  the  pure  air  of  God's  green  places  and 
amid  kindly,  simple,  big  hearted  folks,  little 
Ella  had  blossomed  and  thrived,  the  pride  of 
the  whole  country,  and  as  she  had  grown  to 
womanhood  there  was  many  a  masculine  heart 
beat  a  little  faster  for  her  presence  and  many 
a  manly  blush  of  admiration  came  into  the 
features  of  her  admirers  as  she  whirled  grace- 
fully with  them  in  the  innocent  pleasure  of  a 
simple  country  dance.    But  on  her  eighteenth 
birthday,  her  parents  had  passed  on  to  the 
Great  Beyond  and  the  heartbroken  Ella  had 
come  East  to  live  with  Mrs.  Montgomery,  her 
aunt  in  Jersey  City.    This  lady,  being  socially 
prominent  in  New  York's  "four  hundred", 
was  of  course  quite  ambitious  that  her  pretty 

[157] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

little  niece  from  the  West  should  also  enter 
society.  For  the  last  three  months,  therefore, 
Ella  had  been  feted  at  all  the  better  class 
homes  in  New  York  and  Jersey  City,  and  as 
Mrs.  van  der  Griff,  the  Fifth  Avenue  social 
leader,  was  in  the  same  set  as  Ella's  aunt,  it 
was  only  natural  that  when  making  out  her 
list  of  guests  for  the  dinner  in  honor  of  Gen- 
eral Grant  she  should  include  the  beautiful 
niece  of  her  friend. 

As  Ella  stepped  from  the  carriage,  her  gaze 
fell  upon  little  Frank,  the  crippled  newsboy, 
and  her  eyes  quickly  filled  with  tears,  for  so- 
cial success  had  not  yet  caused  her  to  forget 
that  ''blessed  are  the  weak".  Taking  out  her 
purse,  she  gave  Frank  a  silver  dollar  and  a 
warm  look  of  sympathy  as  she  passed  into  the 
house. 

"Gee,  there  went  an  angel,"  whispered  the 
little  cripple,  and  many  who  heard  him  si- 
lently echoed  that  thought  in  their  hearts. 
Nor  were  they  far  from  wrong. 

But  even  an  angel  is  not  free  from  tempta- 
tion, and  by  letting  Ella  go  into  society  her 

[■58] 


How  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

aunt  was  exposing  the  girl  to  the  whisperings 
of    Satan — whisperings    of    things    material 
rather  than   things  spiritual.     Many  a   girl 
just  as  pure  as  Ella  has  found  her  standards 
gradually  lowered  and  her  moral  character 
slowly  weakened  by  the  contact  with  the  so- 
called  "refined"  and  "cultured"  infidels  one 
meets  in  fashionable  society.    Many  a  father 
and  mother  whose  ambition  has  caused  them 
to  have  their  daughter  go  out  in  society  have 
bitterly  repented  of  that  step  as  they  watched 
the  poor  girl  gradually  succumbing  to   the 
temptation  of  the  world.    Let  her  who  thinks 
it  is  "smart"  to  be  in  society  consider  that  our 
brothels  with  their  red  plush  curtains,  their 
hardwood  floors  and  their  luxurious  appoint- 
ments, are  filled  largely  with  the  worn  out 
belles  and  debutantes  of  fashionable  society. 
The  next  minute  a  bugle  call  sounded  down 
the  street  and  up  drove  a  team  of  prancing 
grays.    Two  soldiers  sprang  down  from  the 
coachman's  box  and  stood  at  rigid  attention 
while  the  door  of  the  carriage  opened  and  out 
stepped  General  Ulysses  S.  Grant. 

[159] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

A  murmur  of  admiration  swept  over  the 
crowd  at  the  sight  of  his  manly  inspiring  fea- 
tures, in  which  the  clean  cut  virility  of  a  life 
free  from  dissipation  was  accentuated  by  the 
neatly  trimmed  black  beard.  His  erect  mili- 
tary bearing — his  neat,  well  fitting  uniform — 
but  above  all  his  frank  open  face  proclaimed 
him  a  man's  man — a  man  among  men.  A 
cheer  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  onlookers  and 
the  brave  but  modest  general  lowered  his  eyes 
and  blushed  as  he  acknowledged  their  greet- 
ing. 

"Men  and  women,"  he  said,  in  a  voice 
which  although  low,  one  could  see  was  ac- 
customed to  being  obeyed,  "I  thank  you  for 
your  cheers.  It  makes  my  heart  rejoice  to 
hear  them,  for  I  know  you  are  not  cheering 
me  personally  but  only  as  one  of  the  many 
men  who  are  fighting  for  the  cause  of  liberty 

and    freedom,    and    for "    the    general's 

voice  broke  a  little,  but  he  mastered  his  emo- 
tion and  went  on — "for  the  flag  we  all  love," 

At  this  he  pulled  from  his  pocket  an  Ameri- 
can flag  and  held  it  up  so  that  all  could  see. 

[1 60] 


Hoiv  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

Cheer  after  cheer  rent  the  air,  and  tears  came 
to  the  general's  eyes  at  this  mark  of  devotion 
to  the  common  cause. 

"Wipe  the  d--d  rebels  off  the  face  of  the 
earth,  G-d  d--  'em,"  shouted  a  too  enthusiastic 
member  of  the  crowd  who,  I  fear,  was  a  little 
the  worse  for  drink.  In  an  instant  General 
Grant  had  stepped  up  to  him  and  fixed  upon 
him  those  fearless  blue  eyes. 

"My  man,"  said  the  general,  "It  hurts  me 
to  hear  you  give  vent  to  those  oaths,  especially 
in  the  presence  of  ladies.  Soldiers  do  not 
curse,  and  I  think  you  would  do  well  to  follow 
their  example." 

The  other  lowered  his  head  shamefacedly. 
"General,"  he  said,  "You're  right  and  I 
apologize." 

A  smile  lit  up  the  general's  handsome  fea- 
tures and  he  extended  his  hand  to  the  other. 

"Shake  on  it,"  he  said  simply,  and  as  the 
crowd  roared  its  approval  of  this  speech  the 
two  men  "shook". 

Meanwhile  within  the  van  der  Griff  house 
all  were  agog  with  excitement  in  expectation 

[i6i] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

of  the  arrival  of  the  distinguished  guest.  Ex- 
pensively dressed  ladies  fluttered  here  and 
there  amid  the  elegant  appointments;  servants 
in  stylish  livery  passed  to  and  fro  with  trays 
of  wine  and  other  spirituous  liquors. 

At  the  sound  of  the  cheering  outside,  the 
haughty  Mrs.  Rhinelander  patted  her  daugh- 
ter Geraldine  nervously,  and  between  mother 
and  daughter  passed  a  glance  of  understand- 
ing, for  both  felt  that  to-night,  if  ever,  was 
Geraldine's  opportunity  to  win  the  handsome 
and  popular  general. 

The  doorbell  rang,  and  a  hush  fell  over  the 
chattering  assemblage;  then  came  the  proud 
announcement  from  the  doorman — "General 
Ulysses  S.  Grant" — and  all  the  society  belles 
crowded  forward  around  the  guest  of  honor. 

It  had  been  rumored  that  the  general,  being 
a  soldier,  was  ignorant  of  social  etiquette,  but 
such  proved  to  be  far  from  the  case.  Indeed, 
he  handled  himself  with  such  ease  of  manner 
that  he  captivated  all,  and  for  each  and  every 
young  miss  he  had  an  apt  phrase  or  a  pretty 
compliment,  greatly  to  their  delight. 

[162] 


How  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

"Pleased  to  know  you" — "Glad  to  shake  the 
hand  of  such  a  pretty  girl" — "What  a  nice  lit- 
tle hand — I  wish  I  might  hold  it  all  evening" 
— with  these  and  kindred  pleasantries  the  gen- 
eral won  the  way  into  the  graces  of  Mrs.  van 
dcr  Griff's  fair  guests,  and  many  a  female 
heart  fluttered  in  her  bosom  as  she  gazed  into 
the  clear  blue  eyes  of  the  soldier,  and  listened 
to  his  well  chosen  tactful  words. 

"And  how  is  the  dear  General  this  eve- 
ning?"— this  in  the  affected  tone  of  old  Mrs. 
Rhinelander,  as  she  forced  her  way  through 
the  crowd. 

"Finer  than  silk,"  replied  he,  and  he  added, 
solicitously,  "I  hope  you  have  recovered  from 
your  lumbago,  Mrs.  Rhinelander." 

"Oh  quite,"  answered  she,  "and  here  is 
Geraldine,  General,"  and  the  ambitious  moth- 
er pushed  her  daughter  forward. 

"Comment  vous  portez  vous,  mon  Gen- 
eral," said  Geraldine  in  French,  "I  hope  we 
can  have  a  nice  tete-a-tete  to-night,"  and  she 
fawned  upon  her  prey  in  a  manner  that  would 
have  sickened  a  less  artificial  gathering. 

[163] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Were  there  not  some  amid  all  that  fashion- 
able throng  in  whom  ideals  of  purity  and  true 
womanhood  lived — some  who  cared  enough 
for  the  sacredness  of  real  love  to  cry  upon  this 
hollow  mockery  that  was  being  used  to  ensnare 
the  simple,  honest  soldier?  There  was  only 
one,  and  she  was  at  that  moment  entering  the 
drawing  room  for  the  purpose  of  being  pre- 
sented to  the  general.    Need  I  name  her? 

Ella,  for  it  was  she,  had  been  upstairs  busy- 
ing herself  with  her  toilet  when  General 
Grant  had  arrived  and  she  now  hurried  for- 
ward to  pay  her  homage  to  the  great  soldier. 
And  then,  as  she  caught  sight  of  his  face,  she 
stopped  suddenly  and  a  deep  crimson  blush 
spread  over  her  features.  She  looked  again, 
and  then  drew  back  behind  a  nearby  portiere, 
her  heart  beating  wildly. 

Well  did  Ella  remember  where  she  had 
seen  that  countenance  before,  and  as  she  stood 
there  trembling  the  whole  scene  of  her  folly 
came  back  to  her.  It  had  happened  in  Kansas, 
just  before  her  parents  died,  on  one  sunny 
May  morning.    She  had  gone  for  a  walk;  her 

ri64] 


How  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

footsteps  had  led  her  to  the  banks  of  a  se- 
cluded lake  where  she  often  went  when  she 
wished  to  be  alone.  Many  an  afternoon  had 
Ella  dreamed  idly  away  on  this  shore,  but  that 
day,  for  some  reason,  she  had  felt  unusually 
full  of  life  and  not  at  all  like  dreaming. 
Obeying  a  thoughtless  but  innocent  impulse, 
with  no  intention  of  evil,  she  had  taken  oflf 
her  clothes  and  plunged  thus  n-k-d  into  the 
cool  waters  of  the  lake.  After  she  had  swum 
around  a  little  she  began  to  realize  the  extent 
of  her  folly  and  was  hurriedly  swimming 
towards  the  shore  when  a  terrific  cramp  had 
seized  her  lower  limbs,  rendering  them  pow- 
erless. Her  first  impulse,  to  scream  for  help, 
was  quickly  checked  with  a  deep  blush,  as 
she  realized  the  consequences  if  a  man  should 
hear  her  call,  for  nearby  was  an  encampment 
of  Union  soldiers,  none  of  whom  she  knew. 
The  perplexed  and  helpless  girl  was  in  sore 
straits  and  was  slowly  sinking  for  the  third 
time,  when  a  bearded  stranger  in  soldier's  uni- 
form appeared  on  the  bank  and  dove  into  the 
water.     To    her    horror    he    swam    rapidly 

[165] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

towards  her — but  her  shame  was  soon  changed 
to  joy  when  she  realized  that  he  was  purposely 
keeping  his  eyes  tight  shut.  With  a  few  swift 
powerful  strokes  he  reached  her  side,  and, 
blushing  deeply,  took  off  his  blue  coat,  fas- 
tened it  around  her,  opened  his  eyes,  and 
swam  with  her  to  the  shore.  Carrying  her  to 
where  she  had  left  her  clothes  he  stayed  only 
long  enough  to  assure  himself  that  she  had 
completely  recovered  the  use  of  her  limbs, 
and  evidently  to  spare  her  further  embarrass- 
ment, had  vanished  as  quickly  and  as  mys- 
teriously as  he  had  appeared. 

Many  a  night  after  that  had  Ella  lain 
awake  thinking  of  the  splendid  features  and 
the  even  more  splendid  conduct  of  this  un- 
known knight  who  wore  the  uniform  of  the 
Union  army.  "How  I  love  him,"  she  would 
whisper  to  herself;  *'but  how  he  must  despise 
me!"  she  would  cry,  and  her  pillow  was  often 
wet  with  tears  of  shame  and  mortification  at 
her  folly. 

It  was  shortly  after  this  episode  that  her 
parents  had  taken  sick  and  passed  away.    Ella 

[1 661 


ELLA    IS  RESCUED   BY   THE  GENERAL 


"With  a  few  swift,  powerful  strokes,  and  with  eyes 
purposely  kept  tight  shut,  he  reached  the  side  of  the 
n — k — d  drowning  girl.  Blushing  deeply,  he  took  off  his 
blue  army  coat,  fastened  it  around  her,  opened  his  eyes 
and  swam  with  her  to  the  shore." 


How  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

had  come  East  and  had  given  up  hope  of  ever 
seeing  her  rescuer  again.  You  may  imagine 
her  feelings  then  when,  on  entering  the  draw- 
ing room  at  the  van  dcr  Griffs',  she  discovered 
that  the  stranger  who  had  so  gallantly  and 
tactfully  rescued  her  from  a  watery  grave  was 
none  other  than  General  Ulysses  S.  Grant. 

The  poor  girl  was  torn  by  a  tumult  of  con- 
trary emotions.  Suppose  he  should  remember 
her  face.  She  blushed  at  the  thought.  And 
besides  what  chance  had  she  to  win  such  a 
great  man's  heart  in  competition  with  these 
society  girls  like  Geraldine  Rhinelander  who 
had  been  "abroad"  and  spoke  French. 

At  that  moment  one  of  the  liveried  ser- 
vants approached  the  general  with  a  trayful 
of  filled  wine  glasses.  So  engrossed  was  the 
soldier  hero  in  talking  to  Geraldine — or, 
rather,  in  listening  to  her  alluring  chatter — 
that  he  did  not  at  first  notice  what  was  being 
offered  him. 

"Will  you  have  a  drink  of  champagne  wine, 
General?"  said  Mrs.  van  der  Griff  who  stood 
near. 

[169] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

The  general  raised  his  head  and  frowned  as 
if  he  did  not  understand. 

"Come,  mon  General,"  cried  Geraldine 
gayly,  "We  shall  drink  a  voire  succcs  dans  la 
guerre,"  and  the  flighty  girl  raised  a  glass  of 
wine  on  high.  Several  of  the  guests  crowded 
around  and  all  were  about  to  drink  to  the 
general's  health. 

"Stop,"  cried  General  Grant  suddenly  real- 
izing what  was  being  done,  and  something  in 
the  tone  of  his  voice  made  everyone  pause. 

"Madam,"  said  he,  turning  to  Mrs.  van  der 
Griff,  "Am  I  to  understand  that  there  is 
liquor  in  those  glasses?" 

"Why  yes.  General,"  said  the  hostess  smil- 
ing uneasily.     "It  is  just  a  little  champagne 


wine." 


"Madam,"  said  the  general,  "It  may  be  'just 
champagne  wine'  to  you,  but  'just  champagne 
wine'  has  ruined  many  a  poor  fellow  and  to 
me  all  alcoholic  beverages  are  an  abomina- 
tion. I  cannot  consent,  madam,  to  remain 
under  your  roof  if  they  are  to  be  served.  I 
have  never  taken  a  drop — I  have  tried  to 

[170] 


THE   GENERAL   REFUSES    A    DRINK 

"  'Stop !'  said  the  General.  'I  cannot  consent  to  re- 
main under  your  roof  if  alcoholic  beverages  are  to  be 
served.  Wine  and  spirituous  liquors  have  ruined  many 
a  poor  fellow,  and  to  me  the  very  name  of  alcohol  is 
an  abomination.'  " 


How  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

stamp  it  out  of  the  army,  and  I  owe  it  to  my 
soldiers  to  decline  to  be  a  guest  at  a  house 
where  wine  and  liquor  are  served." 

An  excited  buzz  of  comment  arose  as  the 
general  delivered  this  ultimatum.  A  few 
there  were  who  secretly  approved  his  senti- 
ments, but  they  were  far  too  few  in  numbers 
and  constant  indulgence  in  alcohol  had  weak- 
ened their  wills  so  that  they  dared  not  stand 
forth.  An  angry  flush  appeared  on  the  face 
of  the  hostess,  for  in  society,  "good  form"  is 
more  important  than  courage  and  ideals,  and 
by  his  frank  statement  General  Grant  had 
violently  violated  the  canons  of  correct  social 
etiquette. 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Grant,"  she  said,  stressing 
the  *'Mr." — "if  that's  the  way  you  feel  about 
it " 

"Stop,"  cried  an  unexpected  voice,  and  to 
the  amazement  of  all  Ella  Flowers  stepped 
forward,  her  teeth  clenched,  her  eyes  blazing. 

"Stop,"  she  repeated,  "He  is  right — the 
liquor  evil  is  one  of  the  worst  curses  of  mod- 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

ern  civilization,  and  if  General  Grant  leaves, 
so  do  I." 

Mrs.  van  der  Griff  hesitated  for  an  instant, 
and  then  suddenly  forced  a  smile. 

"Why  Ella  dear,  of  course  General  Grant 
is  right,"  said  she,  for  it  was  well  known  in 
financial  circles  that  her  husband,  Mr.  van 
der  Griff,  had  recently  borrowed  heavily 
from  Ella's  uncle.  "There  will  not  be  a  drop 
of  wine  served  to-night,  and  now  General, 
shall  we  go  in  to  dinner?  Will  you  be  so  kind 
as  to  lead  the  way  with  Miss  Rhinelander?" 
The  hostess  had  recovered  her  composure, 
and  smiling  sweetly  at  the  guest  of  honor, 
gave  orders  to  the  servants  to  remove  the  wine 
glasses. 

But  General  Grant  did  not  hear  her;  he  was 
looking  at  Ella  Flowers.  And  as  he  gazed  at 
the  sweet  beauty  of  her  countenance  he 
seemed  to  feel  rising  within  him  something 
which  he  had  never  felt  before — something 
which  made  everything  else  seem  petty  and 
trivial.  And  as  he  looked  into  her  eyes  and 
she  looked  into  his,  he  read  her  answer — the 

[174] 


How  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

only  answer  true  womanhood  can  make  to 
clean,  worthy  manhood. 

"Shall  we  go  a  la  salle-a-manger?"  sound- 
ed a  voice  in  his  ears,  and  Geraldine's  sinuous 
arm  was  thrust  through  his. 

General  Grant  took  the  proffered  talon  and 
gently  removed  it  from  him. 

"Miss  Rhinelander,"  he  said  firmly,  "I  am 
taking  this  young  lady  as  my  partner,"  and 
suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  he  graciously 
extended  his  arm  to  Ella  who  took  it  with  a 
pretty  blush. 

It  was  General  Grant's  turn  to  blush  when 
the  other  guests,  with  a  few  exceptions,  ap- 
plauded his  choice  loudly,  and  made  way  en- 
thusiastically as  the  handsome  couple  ad- 
vanced to  the  brilliantly  lighted  dining  room. 

But  although  the  hostess  had  provided  the 
most  costly  of  viands,  I  am  afraid  that  the 
brave  general  did  not  fully  appreciate  them, 
for  in  his  soul  was  the  joy  of  a  strong  man  who 
has  found  his  mate  and  in  his  heart  was  the 
singing  of  the  eternal  song,  "I  love  her — I 
love  her — I  love  hcrl" 

[175] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

It  was  only  too  apparent  to  the  other  guests 
what  had  happened  and  to  their  credit  be  it 
said  that  they  heartily  approved  his  choice, 
for  Mrs.  Rhinelander  and  her  scheming 
daughter  Geraldine  had  made  countless  ene- 
mies with  their  haughty  manners,  whereas  the 
sweet  simplicityof  Ella  Flowers  had  won  her 
numerous  friends.  And  all  laughed  merrily 
when  General  Grant,  in  his  after  dinner 
speech,  said  "flowers"  instead  of  "flour"  when 
speaking  of  provisioning  the  army — a  slip 
which  caused  both  the  general  and  Miss 
Flowers  to  blush  furiously,  greatly  to  the  de- 
light of  the  good-natured  guests.  "All  the 
world  loves  a  lover" — truer  words  were  never 
penned. 

After  dinner,  while  the  other  men,  accord- 
ing to  the  usages  of  best  society,  were  filling 
the  air  of  the  dining  room  with  the  fumes  of 
nicotine,  the  general,  who  did  not  use  tobacco, 
excused  himself — amid  many  sly  winks  from 
the  other  men — and  wandered  out  into  the 
conservatory. 

There  he  found  Ella. 

[176] 


How  Love  Came  to  General  Grant 

"General,"  she  began. 
"Miss  Flowers,"  said  the  strong  man  sim- 
ply, "Call  me  Ulysses." 
And  there  let  us  leave  them. 


U77^ 


Chapter  Eight 

CuSTER'S  LAST  STAND. 

In  the  Manner  of  Edith  IVharton 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 
CUSTER'S  LAST  STAND 

In   the  Manner   of  Edith   Wharton 

It  was  already  late  afternoon  and  the  gas 
street  lamps  of  the  Boul'  Mich'  were  being 
lighted  for  Paris,  or  at  least  for  Paris  in 
summer,  by  a  somewhat  frigid  looking  al- 
lumeur,  when  Philip  Custer  came  to  the  end 
of  his  letter.     He  hesitated  for  an   instant, 

wrote  "Your ,"  then  crossed  that  out  and 

substituted  ''Sincerely."  No,  decidedly  the 
first  ending,  with  its,  as  is,  or,  rather,  as  or- 
dinarily is,  the  case  in  hymeneal  epistles, 
somewhat  possessive  sense,  would  no  longer 
suffice.  "Yours  truly" — perhaps;  "sincerely" 
— better;  but  certainly  not  "Your  husband." 
He  was  done,  thank  God,  with  pretences. 

Philip  sipped  his  absinthe  and  gazed  for  an 

[i8.] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

instant  through  the  Cafe  window;  a  solitary 
fiacre  rattled  by;  he  picked  up  the  result  of 
his  afternoon's  labor,  wearily. 

"Dear  Mary,"  he  read,  "When  I  told  you 
that  my  employers  were  sending  me  to  Paris, 
I  lied  to  you.  It  was,  perhaps,  the  first  direct 
lie  that  I  ever  told  you ;  it  was,  I  know  now, 
the  last.  But  a  falsehood  by  word  of  mouth 
mattered  really  very  little  in  comparison  with 
the  enormous  lie  that  my  life  with  you  had 
become." 

Philip  paused  and  smiled,  somewhat  bit- 
terly, at  that  point  in  the  letter.  Mary,  with 
her  American  woman's  intuition,  would  un- 
doubtedly surmise  that  he  had  run  of¥  with 
Mrs.  Everett;  there  was  a  certain  ironical 
humor  in  the  fact  that  Mary's  mistaken  guess 
would  be  sadly  indicative  of  her  whole  failure 
to  understand  what  her  husband  was,  to  use 
a  slang  expression,  "driving  at." 

"I  hope  that  you  will  believe  me  when  I 
say  that  I  came  to  Paris  to  paint.  In  the  past 
four  years  the  desire  to  do  that  has  grown 
steadily  until  it  has  mastered  me.    You  do  not 

[182] 


Custer  s  Last  Stand 

understand.  I  found  no  one  in  America  who 
did.  I  think  my  mother  might  have,  had  she 
lived;  certainly  it  is  utterly  incomprehensible 
to  father." 

Philip  stopped.  Ay,  there  was  the  rub — 
General  Custer,  and  all  that  he  stood  for. 
Philip  glimpsed  momentarily  those  early  boy- 
hood days  with  his  father,  spent  mainly  in 
army  posts;  the  boy's  cavalry  uniform,  in 
which  he  had  ridden  old  Bess  about  the  camp, 
waving  his  miniature  sabre;  the  day  he  had 
been  thrown  to  the  ground  by  a  strange  horse 
which  he  had  disobediently  mounted,  just  as 
his  father  arrived  on  the  scene.  Philip  had 
never  forgotten  his  father's  words  that  day. 
"Don't  crawl,  son, — don't  whine.  It  was  your 
fault  this  time  and  you  deserved  what  you  got. 
Lots  of  times  it  won't  be  your  fault,  but  you'll 
have  to  take  your  licking  anyway.  But  re- 
member this,  son — take  your  medicine  like  a 
man — always." 

Philip  groaned;  he  knew  what  the  general 
would  say  when  the  news  of  his  son's  deser- 
tion of  his  wife  and  four  year  old  boy  reached 

[183] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

him.  He  knew  that  he  never  could  explain 
to  his  father  the  absolute  torture  of  the  last 
four  years  of  enervating  domesticity  and  busi- 
ness mediocrity — the  torture  of  the  Beauty 
within  him  crying  for  expression,  half  satis- 
fied by  the  stolen  evenings  at  the  art  school  but 
constantly  growing  stronger  in  its  all-consum- 
ing appeal.  No,  life  to  his  father  was  a  sim- 
ple problem  in  army  ethics — a  problem  in 
which  duty  was  "a",  one  of  the  known  fac- 
tors; "x,"  the  unknown,  was  either  "brav- 
ery" or  "cowardice"  when  brought  in  contact 
with  "a".  Having  solved  this  problem,  his 
father  had  closed  the  book;  of  the  higher 
mathematics,  and  especially  of  those  complex 
problems  to  which  no  living  man  knew  the 
final  answer,  he  had  no  conception.  And 
yet ■ 

Philip  resumed  his  reading  to  avoid  the  old 
endless  maze  of  subtleties. 

"It  is  not  that  I  did  not — or  do  not — love 
you.  It  is,  rather,  that  something  within  me  is 
crying  out — something  which  is  stronger  than 
I,  and  which  I  cannot  resist.     I  have  waited 

[184] 


Custer  s  Last  Stand 

two  years  to  be  sure.  Yesterday,  as  soon  as 
I  reached  here,  I  took  my  work  to  the  man 
who  is  considered  the  finest  art  critic  in  Paris. 
He  told  me  that  there  was  a  quality  to  my 
painting  which  he  had  seen  in  that  of  no  living 
artist;  he  told  me  that  in  five  years  of  hard 
work  I  should  be  able  to  produce  work  which 
Botticelli  would  be  proud  to  have  done.  Do 
you  understand  that,  Mary — Botticelli! 

''But  no,  forgive  me.  My  paean  of  joy 
comes  strangely  in  a  letter  which  should  be  of 
abject  humility  for  what  must  seem  to  you, 
to  father,  and  to  all,  a  cowardly,  selfish  act  of 
desertion — a  whining  failure  to  face  life.  Oh 
dear,  dear  Mary  if  you  could  but  understand 
what  a  hell  I  have  been  through — " 

Philip  took  his  pen  and  crossed  out  the  last 
line  so  that  no  one  could  read  what  had  been 
there. 

"Materially,  of  course,  you  and  little 
George  will  be  better  off;  the  foolish  pride 
with  which  I  refused  to  let  your  parents  help 
us  now  no  longer  stands  in  their  way.  You 
should  have  no  difficulty  about  a  divorce. 

[■8s] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

"You  can  dispose  of  my  things  as  you  see 
fit;  there  is  nothing  I  care  about  keeping 
which  I  did  not  bring. 

"Again,  Mary,  I  cannot  ask  you  to  forgive, 
or  even  to  understand,  but  I  do  hope  that  you 
will  believe  me  when  I  say  that  this  act  of 
mine  is  the  most  honest  thing  I  have  ever 
done,  and  that  to  have  acted  out  the  tragi- 
comedy in  the  part  of  a  happy  contented  hus- 
band would  have  made  of  both  of  our  lives 
a  bitter  useless  farce. 

Sincerely, 

Philip." 

He  folded  the  pages  and  addressed  the  en- 
velope. 

"Pardon,  Monsieur" — a  whifif  of  sulphur 
came  to  his  nose  as  the  waiter  bent  over  the 
table  to  light  the  gas  above  him.  "Would 
Monsieur  like  to  see  the  journal?     There  is  a 

most    amusing   story    about The    bill, 

Monsieur?    Yes — in  a  moment." 

Philip  glanced  nervously  through  the  pages 
of  the  Temps.     He  was  anxious  to  get  the 

[1 86] 


Custer  s  Last  Staiid 

letter  to  the  post — to  have  done  with  indeci- 
sion and  worry.  It  would  be  a  blessed  relief 
when  the  thing  was  finally  done  beyond 
chance  of  recall;  why  couldn't  that  stupid 
waiter  hurry? 

On  the  last  page  of  the  newspaper  was  an 
item  headlined  "Recent  News  from  Amer- 
ica." Below  was  a  sub-heading  "Horrible 
Massacre  of  Soldiers  by  Indians — Brave 
Stand  of  American  Troopers."  He  caught 
the  name  "Custer"  and  read: 

"And  by  his  brave  death  at  the  hands  of 
the  Indians,  this  gallant  American  general  has 
made  the  name  of  Custer  one  which  will  for- 
ever be  associated  with  courage  of  the  highest 
type." 

He  read  it  all  through  again  and  sat  quietly 
as  the  hand  of  Polyphemus  closed  over  him. 
He  even  smiled  a  little — a  weary,  ironic  smile. 

"Monsieur  desires  something  more,  per- 
haps"— the  waiter  held  out  the  bill. 

Philip  smiled.  "No — Monsieur  has  fin- 
ished— there  is  nothing  more." 

[187] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 
Then  he  repeated  slowly,  "There  is  nothing 


more." 


Philip  watched  his  son  George  blow  out  the 
twelve  candles  on  his  birthday  cake. 

"Mother,"  said  George,  "when  I  get  to  be 
eighteen,  can  I  be  a  soldier  just  like  grand- 
father up  there?"  He  pointed  to  the  portrait 
of  Philip's  father  in  uniform  which  hung  in 
the  dining  room. 

"Of  course  you  can,  dear,"  said  his  mother. 
"But  you  must  be  a  brave  boy". 

"Grandfather  was  awful  brave,  wasn't  he 
father?"  This  from  little  Mary  between 
mouthfuls  of  cake. 

"Yes,  Mary,"  Philip  answered.  "He  was 
very,  very  brave." 

"Of  course  he  was,"  said  George.  "He  was 
an  American." 

"Yes,"  answered  Philip,  "That  explains  it. 
— he  was  an  American." 

Mrs.  Custer  looked  up  at  the  portrait  of 
her  distinguished  father-in-law. 

[1 88] 


Custer  s  Last  Stand 

"You  know  Philip,  I  think  it  must  be  quite 
nice  to  be  able  to  paint  a  picture  like  that. 
I've  often  wondered  why  you  never  kept  up 
your  art." 


[1891 


Chapter  Nine 

For  the  freedom  of  the 

WORLD. 

Act  I — In    the   Manner    of    Mary    Raymond   Shipman 

Andrews 
Act  2 — In  the  Manner  of  Eugene  O'Neill 


CHAPTER  NINE 

"FOR  THE  FREEDOM  OF  THE 
WORLD" 

A   DRAMA  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 

Act  i:  In  the  Manner  of  Mary  Raymond  Ship- 
man  Andrews 
Act  2:  In  the  Manner  of  Eugene  O'Neill 

ACT  ONE 

(Mary  Raymond  Shipman  Andrews) 

SCENE    I 

A  principal  street  of  an  American  city  in 
the  spring  of  1918. 

At  the  rear  of  the  stage,  representing  the 
opposite  sidewalk  of  the  street,  are  gathered 
many  people  come  to  bid  farewell  to  the  boys 
of  the  Blankth  regiment  who  are  soon  to 
march  past  on  their  way  to  France. 

[193] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Extending  across  the  "street",  from  foot- 
lights to  ''sidewalk",  is  a  large  white  plaster 
arch,  gayly  decorated  with  the  Allied  colors. 

On  this  arch  is  the  inscription  "For  the 
Freedom  of  the  World." 

At  the  rising  of  the  curtain,  distant  march 
music  is  heard  (off  stage,  right)  ;  this  con- 
stantly grows  louder  during  the  ensuing  dia- 
logue which  takes  place  between  three  elderly 
women  crowded  together  at  the  edge  of  the 
sidewalk.  These  women,  although,  before  the 
war,  of  different  stations  in  social  rank,  are 
now  united,  as  are  all  mothers  in  the  Allied 
countries,  by  the  glorious  badge  which  each 
proudly  wears  pinned  over  her  heart — the 
service  star. 

The  Professor's  Wife — I  hear  them  coming. 
The  Street-cleaner's  Wife — So  do  I.     I  hope 

my  boy  Pat  sees  me. 
The   Pawnbroker's   Wife — I    told   my  Jean 

where  to  look. 

The  approaching  music  and  the  cheering  of 

[194] 


"For  the  Freedom  of  the  World*' 

the  spectators  drowns  out  further  conversa- 
tion. 

Enter  (right)  the  regimental  band  playing 
the  "Stars  and  Stripes  Forever."  They 
march  through  the  arch  and  exit  left.  Fol- 
lowing them  comes  the  flag,  at  the  sight  of 
which  all  the  male  spectators  (young  boys 
and  men  too  old  to  fight)  remove  their  hats. 
After  the  colors  come  the  troops,  splendid 
clean  faced  fellows,  in  whose  eyes  shines  the 
light  of  civilization's  ideals,  in  whose  ears 
rings  the  never  forgettable  cry  of  heroic 
France  and  brave  little  Belgium.  The  boys 
are  marching  four  abreast,  with  a  firm  deter- 
mined step;  it  is  as  though  each  man  were 
saying  to  himself  "They  shall  not  pass." 

After  the  first  few  squads  have  marched 
through  the  arch  and  off  left,  the  command  is 
issued  off-stage — "Company— HALT."  A 
young  lieutenant  repeats  this  order  to  his  men, 
and  the  column  comes  to  a  stop.  The  men 
stand  at  attention  until  given  the  command 
"Rest",  when  they  relax  and  a  murmur  of 
conversation  arises  from  the  ranks,  in  which 

[197] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

characteristic  sentences  "German  ideals  are 
not  our  ideals"  and  "Suppose  it  was  your  own 
sister"  show  only  too  well  what  the  boys  are 
thinking  of  day  and  night. 

As  the  column  halts,  the  three  service  star 
mothers  rush  out  from  the  curb  and  embrace 
their  sons  who  happen  to  be  in  this  company. 
At  the  same  time  a  very  attractive  girl  runs  up 
to  the  young  lieutenant. 


The  Lieutenant — Ellen! 

His  Fiancee — John! 

The  Professors  Son 

The  Streetcleaners  Son 

The  Pawnbroker  s  Son 

The  Professors  Wife 

The  Streetcleaners  Wife 

The  Pawnbroker's  Wife 

Voice  off  stage — Company — Atten  SHUN! 


Mother! 


My  Boy! 


The  farewells  are  said,  the  men  come 

to  attention. 

Voice  off  stage — Forward — MARCH  I 

The  Lieutenant — (Pointing  with  his  sword  to 

the  inscription  on  the  arch) — Forward — 

for     the     Freedom     of     the     World — 

MARCH. 

[198] 


"For  the  Freedom  of  the  World" 

The  men's  teeth  click  together,  their  heads 
are  thrown  back,  and  with  a  light  in  their  eyes 
that  somehow  suggests  Joan  of  Arc  the  Cru- 
saders move  on. 


ri99] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 


SCENE  2 


Three  months  later. 

A  section  of  an  American  front  line  trench 
now  occupied  by  the  Blankth  regiment. 

It  is  early  morning  and  the  three  soldiers 
mentioned  in  Scene  i  are  conversing  together 
for  perhaps  the  last  time,  for  soon  they  are  to 
be  given  the  chance  w^hich  every  American 
man  desires  more  than  anything  in  the  world 
— the  opportunity  to  go  "over  the  top". 

The  Professor's  Son — Well  fellows,  in  a  few 
minutes  we  shall  be  able  to  show  the  peo- 
ple at  home  that  their  boys  are  not  cow- 
ards when  the  fate  of  civilization  is  at 
stake. 

The  Pawnbroker's  Son — Here's  a  newspaper 
clipping  mother  sent  me.  It's  from  a 
speech  made  the  other  day  in  Congress. 
{He  reads)  "And  we — and  our  children 
— and  our  children's  children  will  never 

[200] 


"For  the  Freedom  of  the  World** 

forget  the  debt  we  owe  those  brave  boys 
who  are  now  in  France." 

The  Streetcleaner's  Son — That  makes  a  fel- 
low feel  pretty  good  inside,  doesn't  it? 
It  makes  me  glad  I'm  doing  my  bit — and 
after  the  war  I  hope  the  ideals  which 
have  inspired  us  all  will  make  us  better 
citizens  in  a  better  world. 

The  Professor's  Son — Not  only  will  we  be 
better  citizens — not  only  will  the  torch 
of  liberty  shine  more  brightly — but  also 
each  one  of  us  will  go  back  to  his  job 
with  a  deeper  vision. 

The  Pawnbrokers  6'ow— That's  right.  I  am 
a  musician — a  pianist,  you  know — and  I 
hope  that  after  the  war  I  shall  be  able  to 
tell  America,  through  my  music,  of  the 
glory  of  this  holy  cause. 

The  Professor's  Son — I  didn't  know  you  were 
a  pianist. 

The  Pawnbroker's  Son — ^Yes — ever  since  I 
was  a  boy — I  have  had  no  other  interest. 
My  father  tried  to  make  me  go  into  his 

[201] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

shop  but  I  couldn't  stand  it.  He  got  an- 
gry and  refused  to  support  me;  I  had  a 
hard  time  until  I  won  a  scholarship  at  a 
New  York  musical  college.  Just  before 
the  war  I  had  a  chance  to  play  the  Schu- 
mann concerto  with  the  Philharmonic; 
the  critics  all  said  that  in  another  year  I 
would  be — but  fellows — you  must  think 
me  frightfully  conceited  to  talk  so,  and 
besides  what  matters  my  musical  career 
in  comparison  with  the  sacrifice  which 
everyone  is  making? 
The  Streetcleaner's  Son — And  gladly  making, 
too,  for  it  is  easy  to  give  up  all,  as  did 
Joan  of  Arc,  for  France.  Attention, 
men!  here  comes  one  of  our  officers. 

The  three  stand  at  attention. 
Enter  the  Lieutenant. 

The   Lieutenant — Well,    men,    do    you    feel 

ready? 
The  Three — More  than  ready,  sir — eager. 

[202] 


"For  the  Freedom  of  the  World** 

The  Lieutenant — Brave  men  I  (To  the  Pro- 
fessor's Son)  Come  here  a  minute,  Keat- 
ing. I  have  something  to  ask  you  before 
we  go  over  the  top. 

The  Professor's  Son  and  the  Lieutenant  go 
to  one  side. 

The  Lieutenant — {To  the  other  two  in  a  kindly 

manner) — At  easel 
The  Streetcleaner's  Son — ^Thank  you,  sir. 

They  relax  from  their  rigid  posture  of  "at- 
tention". 

The  Lieutenant — (To  the  Professor's  Son) — 
Keating,  when  we  "go  over",  we — may 
— never — come — back,  you  know.  And 
I  want  to  ask  a  favor  of  you.  I  am  en- 
gaged— to  a  girl  back  home — here  is  her 
picture  {he  draws  a  photograph  from  his 
inner  breast  pocket  and  shows  it  to  the 
Professors  Son.) 

The  Professor's  Son — She  is  beautiful.  Sir. 

The    Lieutenant — {Putting    the    photograph 

[203] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

back  in  his  pocket) — ^Yes — very  beauti- 
ful. And  {dropping  his  eyes) — I  love 
her.  If — if  I  should  "go  west"  I  want 
you  to  write  her  and  tell  her  that  my  last 
thoughts  were  of  my  country  and — her. 
We  are  to  be  married — after  the  war — if 
{suddenly  clearing  his  throat).  Her 
name  is  Ellen  Radcliff — here,  I'll  write 
the  address  down  for  you. 

He  does  so,  and  hands  the  slip  of  paper  to 
the  Professor's  Son,  who  discreetly  turns 
away. 

The  Lieutenant — {Brusquely) — That's  all, 
Keating. 

A  bugle  sounds. 

The  Lieutenant — Attention  men  I  At  the  next 
bugle  call  you  go  over  the  top — remem- 
ber that  you  are  Americans  and  that 
Americans  know  how  to  fight  and  die  in 
the  cause  of  liberty  and  for  the  freedom 
of  the  world. 

[204] 


**For  the  Freedom  of  the  World'* 

The  Three  Soldiers — We  are  ready  to  make 
the  supreme  sacrifice  if  need  be. 

The  bugle  sounds. 

The  Lieutenant — (Climbing  up  the  ladder  to 
the  top  of  the  trench) — Follow  me,  men — 

The  Three  Soldiers — (Climbing  up  after 
hitji) — Lafayette — we  come,  though  pop- 
pies bloom  in  Flanders  field. 

They  go  "over  the  top". 


[205] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

SCENE  3 

A  section  of  a  Hun  trench  a  minute  later. 
Two  Hun  soldiers  are  conversing  together; 
another  Hun  is  reading  a  copy  of  Nietzsche. 

First  Hun  Soldier — And  then  we  cut  the 
hands  ofif  all  the  little  children — oh  it 
was  wonderful. 

Second  Hun  Soldier — I  wish  I  had  been  there. 

A  Hun  Lieutenant  rushes  in. 

The  Hun  Lieutenant — (Kicking  the  three 
men  and  brandishing  his  revolver)  — 
Swine — wake  up — here  come  the  Ameri- 
cans. 

The  three  spring  to  their  feet  and  seize  their 
guns.  At  the  top  of  the  trench  appears  the 
American  lieutenant,  closely  followed  by  the 
three  soldiers. 

The  American  Lieutenant — {Coolly) — ^We 
come  to  avenge  the  sinking  of  the  Lusi- 
tania. 

[206] 


"For  the  Freedom  of  the  World'* 

The  Hun  Lieutenant — Hoch  der  Kaiser  1 
Might  is  stronger  than  right  I 

He  treacherously  tries  to  shoot  the  Ameri- 
can but  the  Professor's  Son  disarms  him  with 
his  bayonet.  The  three  Hun  soldiers  offer  a 
show  of  resistance. 

The  Streetcleaner's  Son — {To  first  Hun  sol- 
dier)— Your  hands  are  unclean  with  the 
murder  of  innocent  women  and  children. 

First  Hun  Soldier — {Dropping  his  gun)  — 
Kameradl 

The  Pawnbroker's  Son — {To  the  other  Hun 
soldiers) — Prussianism  has  destroyed  the 
Germany  of  Bach  and  Beethoven  and  you 
fellows  know  it,  too. 

Second  and  third  Hun  Soldiers — {Dropping 
their  guns) — Kamerad! 

The  American  Lieutenant — Men — you  have 
kept  the  faith.  I  am  proud  of  you. 
Forward! 

An  explosion  (not  too  loud  to  annoy  the  au- 
dience) is  heard  off  stage  right. 

[207] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

The  Professors  Son — {Sinking  to  the  ground) 
Fellows,  I'm  afraid  they've  got  me. 

The  Streetcleaner's  Son — What  a  shame! 

The  Lieutenant — Is  there  anything  we  can  do 
to  ease  the  pain? 

The  Professor's  Son — {Weakening  rapidly) 
No — go  on,  boys,  carry  the — banner  of 
— civilization's  ideals — forward — with- 
out me — Tell  mother  I'm  glad — I  did — 
my  bit — for  the  freedom — of  the  world 
— fellows,  the  only — thing — I  regret — is 
that  I  won't — be  able — to  be  with  you — 
when  you — go  back — to  enjoy  the  grati- 
tude— of  America — good-bye,  fellows, 
may  you  drink — to  the  full — the  rewards 
of  a  grateful  nation. 

He  dies.  The  others  regretfully  leave 
him  behind  as  they  push  on  after  the  fleeing 
Huns. 

The  stage  is  slowly  darkened — the  noise  of 
battle  dies  away. 

[208] 


THE    WORLD    WILL    NFAT.R    FORGET 

"The  Professor's  Son  (weakening  rapidly) — Go  on, 
boys — carry  the  banner — of  civilization's  ideals — forward 
— without  me.  I'm  glad^I  did  my  bit — for  the  freedom 
of  the  world — I  regret  only — that  1  won't  be  able — to 
enjov  with  you — the  gratitude  of  America — after  the 
war/' 


**For  the  Freedom  of  the  JVorld" 

Enter  an  Angel  in  the  uniform  of  the 
Y.M.C.A.  She  goes  up  to  the  fallen  hero 
and  taking  him  in  her  arms  tenderly  carries 
him  ofif  the  stage. 


CURTAIN 


[2.0 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 
TWO  YEARS   PASS 

ACT  Tff'O 

{Eugene  O'Neill) 

SCENE    I 

The  bedroom  of  a  bachelor  apartment  in 
New  York  City  in  the  Fall  of  1920. 

There  is  about  the  room  an  air  of  neglect, 
as  though  the  occupant  did  not  particularly 
give  a  damn  whether  he  slept  in  this  room  or 
in  hell.  This  is  evidenced  in  a  general  way 
by  the  absence  of  any  attempts  at  decora- 
tion and  by  the  presence  of  dirty  laundry 
and  unopened  letters  scattered  about  the  room. 

The  furniture  consists  of  a  bed  and  a  bu- 
reau ;  at  the  foot  of  the  former  is  a  trunk  such 
as  was  used  by  American  army  officers  in  the 
recent  war. 

Although  it  is  three  in  the  morning,  the  bed 
is  unoccupied.  The  electric  light  over  the 
bureau  has  been  left  lighted. 

The  lamp  flickers  and  goes  out  for  a  min- 

[2123 


"For  the  Freedom  of  the  World'' 

ute;  when  it  again  flashes  on,  the  Angel  and 
the  Professor's  Son  are  seen  standing  in  the 
room,  as  though  they  had  come  there  directly 
from  the  close  of  the  preceding  act;  the  An- 
gel, however,  has  completely  removed  all 
Y.M.C.A.  insignia  and  now  has  a  beard  and 
chews  tobacco;  from  time  to  time  he  spits  out 
of  the  window. 

The  Angel — Why  the  hell  weren't  you  satis- 
fied to  stay  in  heaven? 

The  Professor's  Son — Well,  I  just  wanted  to 
see  my  old  buddies  once  more — I  want  to 
see  them  enjoying  the  gratitude  of  the 
world. 

The  Angel — Hmmmm — ^well,  this  is  where 
your  Lieutenant  now  lives — and  I  think 
I  hear  him  coming. 

They  step  behind  a  curtain.  The  noise  of 
a  key  rattling  in  a  lock  is  heard,  then  a  light 
flashes  on  in  the  next  room.  The  sound  of 
unsteady  footsteps — a  vase  is  knocked  over — 
a  curse — then  enter  the  Lieutenant. 

[213] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

He  wears  a  dinner-coat,  one  sleeve  of  which 
hangs  empty.  His  face  is  white,  his  eyes  set, 
his  mouth  hard  and  hopeless.  He  is  drunk — 
not  hilariously — but  with  the  drunkenness  of 
despair. 

He  sits  down  on  the  bed  and  remains  for 
several  minutes,  his  head  in  his  hands. 

The  Lieutenant — God,  I'm  drunk — (after  a 
pause) — drunk  again — well,  what  of  it 
— ^what  the  hell  diflference  does  it  make 
— get  drunk  if  I  want  to — sure  I  will — 
get  drunk — that's  the  dope — DRUNK — 
oh  Christ! — 

He  throws  himself  on  the  bed  and  after 
lying  there  a  few  minutes  sits  up. 

The  Lieutenant — Gotta  have  another  drink — 
can't  go  sleep,  God  damn  it — brain  too 
clear — gotta  kill  brain — that's  the  dope 
— kill  brain — forget — wipe  out  past — 

He  opens  the  trunk  in  his  search  for  liquor. 

[214] 


**For  the  Freedom  of  the  World** 

He  suddenly  pulls  out  his  lieutenant's  coat 
and  holds  it  up. 

The  Lieutenant — There's  that  God  damn 
thing — never  wanted  to  see  it  again — 
wound  stripes  on  right  sleeve,  too — hur- 
rah for  brave  soldier — arm  shot  off  to — 
to  make  world  safe  for  democracy — blaa 
— the  god  damn  hypocrites — democracy 
hell — arm  shot  off  because  I  wasn't  clever 
enough  to  stay  out  of  it — ought  to  have 
had  sense  enough  to  join  the — the  ordi- 
nance department  or — or  the  Y.M.C.A. 

He  feels  aimlessly  through  the  pockets  of 
the  coat.  Suddenly,  from  the  inside  breast 
pocket  he  draws  out  something — a  photo- 
raph — 


cr 
to 


The  Lieutenant — Ellen  1    Oh  God! 

He  gazes  at  the  picture  for  a  long  time. 

The  Lieutenant — Yes,  Ellen,   I  should  have 
joined    the    Y.M.C.A.    shouldn't    I?— 

[215] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

where  they  don't  get  their  arms  shot  off — 
couldn't  marry  a  man  with  one  arm,  could 
you? — of  course  not — think  of  looking  at 
an  empty  sleeve  year  after  year — chil- 
dren might  be  born  with  only  one  arm, 
too — children — oh  God  damn  you,  Ellen, 
you  and  your  Y.M.C.A.  husband! 

He  tears  the  picture  in  two  and  hurls  it  into 
the  trunk.  Then  he  sinks  onto  the  bed,  sob- 
bing drunkenly.  After  a  few  minutes,  he 
walks  over  to  the  trunk  and  picks  up  one  half 
of  the  torn  picture.  He  turns  it  over  in  his 
hand  and  reads  the  writing  on  the  bacL 

The  Lieutenant  {Reading) — "Pm  waiting  for 
you,  dear — when  you  have  done  your  bit 
'for  the  freedom  of  the  world'." 

He  smiles,  wearily,  and  reaches  down  to 
pick  up  the  other  half  of  the  picture.  His 
eye  is  caught  by  something  shiny;  it  is  his 
army  revolver.  He  slowly  picks  it  up  and 
looks  at  it  for  a  long  time. 

[2.6] 


FOR   THE   FREEDOM    OF   THE   WORLD 

"The  Lieutettant — No,  Ellen,  you  couldn't  have  mar- 
ried a  man  with  one  arm  shot  off,  could  you — arm  shot 
off — for  the  freedom — of  the  world  [He  laughs,  ter- 
ribly].    For  the  freedom — oh,  Christ! 

"(He  pulls  the  trigger  as  the  curtain  falls.)" 


*'For  the  Freedom  of  the  JVorlcT* 

The    Lieutenant — For    the    freedom    of    the 
world — 

He  quickly  opens  his  top  bureau  drawer 
and  takes  out  a  box  of  cartridges.  One  of 
these  he  inserts  in  a  chamber  of  his  revolver. 

The  Lieutenant — For  the  freedom — 

He  laughs. 

As  the  curtain  falls  he  presses  the  revolver 
against  his  temple  and  fires. 


[219] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

SCENE   2 

A  bare  room  in  a  boarding  house.    To  the 

left  is  a  bed,  to  the  right  a  grand  piano the 

latter  curiously  out  of  keeping  with  the  other 
cheap  furnishings.  The  room  is  in  partial 
darkness. 

The  door  slowly  swings  open;  the  Angel 
and  the  Professor's  Son  enter. 

The  Angel — And  here  you  have  the  room  of 
your  friend  the  Pawnbroker's  Son — the 
musical  genius — ^with  a  brilliant  future. 

They  hide  in  a  closet,  leaving  the  door 
partly  open. 

Enter  Jean,  the  Pawnbroker's  Son.  He  has 
on  a  cutaway  suit — a  relic  of  his  first  and  last 
public  concert  before  the  war.  His  shoulders 
sag  dejectedly  and  his  face  is  drawn  and  white. 
He  comes  in  and  sits  on  the  bed.  A  knock — 
a  determined  knock — is  heard  at  the  door  but 
Jean  does  not  move.  The  door  opens  and  his 
landlady — a  shrewish,  sharp  faced  woman  of 
40 — appears.  He  gets  up  off  the  bed  when 
he  sees  her  and  bows. 

[220] 


*'For  the  Freedom  of  the  World** 

The  Landlady — I  forgot  you  was  decf  or  I 
wouldn't  have  wasted  my  time  hitting  my 
knuckles  against  your  door. 

Jean  gazes  at  her. 

The  Landlady — Well  Mr.  Rosen  I  guess  you 
know  why  I'm  here — it  s  pay  up  today  or 
get  out. 

Jean — Please  write  it  down — you  know  I  can- 
not hear  a  word  you  say.  I  suppose  it's 
about  the  rent. 

The  landlady  takes  paper  and  pencil  and 
writes. 

The  Landlady — {Reading  over  the  result  of 
her  labor)  —  "To-day — is — the — last — 
day.    If  you  can't  pay,  you  must  get  out." 

She  hands  it  to  Jean  and  he  reads. 

Jean — But  I  cannot  pay.  Next  week  perhaps 
I  shall  get  work — 

[221] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

The  Landlady —  (Scornfully)  — Yes  —  Next 
week  maybe  I  have  to  sell  another  liberty 
bond  for  seventy  dollars  what  I  paid 
a  hundred  dollars  for,  too.  No  sir  I  need 
the  money  now.     Here — 

She  writes  and  hands  it  to  him. 

Jean  (Reading) — Sell  my  piano?  But  please 
I  cannot  do  that — yet. 

The  Landlady — A  lot  of  good  a  piano  does  a 
deef  person  like  you.  That's  a  good  one 
—  (She  laughs  harshly).  The  deef  mu- 
sician— ho  ho — with  a  piano. 

Jean — Madam,  I  shall  pay  you  surely  next 
week.  There  has  been  some  delay  in  my 
war  risk  insurance  payment.  I  should 
think  that  you  would  trust  a  soldier  who 
lost  his  hearing  in  the  trenches — 

The  Landlady — ^That's  old  stufif.  You  sol- 
diers think  just  because  you  were  un- 
lucky enough  to  get  drafted  you  can  spend 
the  rest  of  your  life  patting  yourselves 
on  the  back.    Besides — what  good  did  the 

[222] 


**For  the  Freedom  of  the  World** 

war  do  anyway — except  make  a  lot  of 
rich  people  richer? 
She  scribbles  emphatically  "Either  you  pay 
up  tonight  or  out  you  go." 

Handing  this  to  Jean  with  a  flourish,  she 
exits. 

He  sits  on  the  bed  for  a  long  time. 

Finally  he  glances  up  at  the  wall  over  his 
bed  where  hangs  a  cheap  photo  frame.  In  the 
center  is  a  picture  of  President  Wilson;  on 
one  side  of  this  is  a  crude  print  of  a  soldier,  on 
the  other  side  a  sailor;  above  is  the  inscription 
"For  the  Freedom  of  the  World." 

Jean  takes  down  the  picture  and  looks  at  it. 
As  he  replaces  it  on  the  wall  he  sees  hanging 
above  it  the  bayonet  which  he  had  carried 
through  the  war.  He  slowly  takes  the  weapon 
down,  runs  his  fingers  along  the  edge  and 
smiles — a  quiet  tired  smile  which  does  not 
leave  his  face  during  the  rest  of  the  scene. 

He  walks  over  to  the  piano  and  plays  the 
opening  chords  of  the  Schumann  concerto. 

[223] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Then   shaking  his   head   sadly,   he   tenderly 
closes  down  the  lid  and  locks  it. 

He  next  writes  a  note  which  he  folds  and 
places,  with  the  key  to  the  piano,  in  an  envel- 
ope. Sealing  and  addressing  the  envelope, 
he  places  it  on  the  piano.  Then,  walking  over 
to  the  bed,  he  picks  up  the  bayonet,  and  shut- 
ting his  eyes  for  an  instant,  he  steps  forward 
and  cuts  his  throat  as  the  curtain  falls. 


[224] 


tf 


**For  the  Freedom  of  the  World 

SCENE   3 

Same  as  Act  i,  Scene  i  except  for  the 
changes  made  in  the  city  street  by  a  year  or 
more  of  peace. 

The  arch  across  the  thoroughfare  still 
stands,  although  it  has  become  badly  discol- 
ored and  dirty;  the  inscription  "For  the  Free- 
dom of  the  World"  is  but  faintly  visible.  As 
the  curtain  rises  workmen  are  busy  at  work 
tearing  the  arch  down. 

Enter  the  Angel  and  the  Professor's  Son. 

The  Angel — Stand  over  here,  out  of  the  way, 
and  you'll  see  the  last  of  your  cronies — 
Pat,  the  Streetcleaner's  Son — enjoying 
the  gratitude  of  the  world. 

The  Professor's  Son  does  not  answer. 

Enter  Pat.  He  has  on  an  old  pair  of  cor- 
duroy trousers,  with  his  brown  army  shirt, 
and  shoes  out  at  the  heel. 

He  looks  as  if  he  had  not  slept  for  days — 

[225] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

certainly  he  has  not  shaved  for  a  week.    He 
approaches  one  of  the  workmen. 

Pat — Say  buddy  any  chance  for  a  job  here? 

The  Workman — Hell  no.  They  was  fifty  ap- 
plicants yesterday.  [Looking  at  his 
army  shirt)  Most  of  them  ex-soldiers  like 
you.    Jobs  is  mighty  scarce. 

Pat — I'll  tell  the  world  they  are.  I'd  almost 
join  the  army  again,  except  for  my  wife 
and  kid. 

The  Workman — God — don't  do  it. 

Pat — Why — was  you  across? 

The  Workman — Yes,  God  damn  it — eight 
months.  Next  war  I'll  let  somebody  else 
do  the  fighting. 

Pat — Same  here.  The  wise  guys  were  them 
that  stayed  at  home  and  kept  their  jobs. 

The  Workman — I'll  say  they  were. 

Pat — (Growing  more  excited) — And  while 
we  was  over  there  fighting,  nothing  was 
too  good  for  us — "brave  boys,"  they  said, 
"we  shall  never  forget  what  you  have 
done  for  us."     Never  forget — belli     In 

[226] 


*'For  the  Freedom  of  the  World" 

about  a  year  everybody  forgot  there  ever 
was  a  war  and  a  fellow  has  a  hell  of  a 
time  getting  a  job — and  when  you  men- 
tion the  war  they  just  laugh — why  God 
damn  it,  I've  been  out  of  work  for  six 
months  and  I  ain't  no  loafer  either  and 
my  wife  has  had  to  go  back  to  her  folks 
and  I'm  just  about  all  in — 

During  this  speech  the  work  on  dismantling 
the  arch  has  steadily  progressed.  Suddenly 
there  comes  a  warning  cry — "Look  out" — as 
the  supports  unexpectedly  give  way.  Pat  is 
too  engrossed  in  his  tirade  to  take  heed,  and 
as  the  center  portion  of  the  arch  falls  it  crushes 
him  beneath  its  weight.  After  the  cloud  of 
dust  clears,  he  is  seen  lying  under  the  mass. 
By  a  curious  twist  of  fate  he  has  been  crushed 
by  the  portion  of  the  arch  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion "For  the  Freedom  of  the  World."  His 
eyes  open  for  an  instant — he  reads,  through 
the  mist  of  approaching  death,  the  words,  and 
he  laughs — 

[229] 


A  Parody  Outline  of  History 

Pat — For  the  Freedom  of  the  World — Oh 
Christl 

His  mocking  laughter  is  interrupted  by  a 
severe  fit  of  coughing  and  he  sinks  back  dead. 

The  Professor  s  Son — Oh  God — take  me 
somewhere  where  I  can't  ever  see  the 
world. 

The  Angel — Come  to  heaven. 

CURTAIN 

The  End 


[230] 


■m 


m.  % 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACIl  ITY 


i 


AA    000  695  518 


II  mil  III  I  nil 


3  1158  01286  7619 


..v<^ 


<i. 


^^^^ 


^^ 


